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THE 


Beautiful  Book 


FOR 


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LITTLE  CHILDREN. 


BOSTON: 

JOHN    L.    SHOREY. 

1875- 


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Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by 

JOHN   L.    SHOREY, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Boston  : 
Rand,  Avery,  &  Co.,  Stereotypers  and  Printers. 


CONTENTS 


Page. 

Autumn  Leaves Uncle  Charles 7 

The  Acorns Emily  Carter 8 

Life's  Morning  and  Evening         ....        Emily  Carter 9 

March A.  D.  W. io 

Mabel  and  the  Snow-Drops Mrs.  R.  J.  Lee n 

The  Johnny-Cake Mrs.  E.  Hayward 12 

A  Cold  Day 14 

My  Clothes-Pins Marian  Douglas 15 

Learning  to  Walk Dora  Burnside 17 

Grandfather's  Chair Matthias  Barr 18 

Sundown Emily  Carter 19 

Tiz-a-Ring Josephine  Pollard 20 

A  little  Tease Josephine  Pollard 21 

Carol  for  Spring A.  D.  IV. 22 

May Emily  Carter     . 23 

Tommy's  Advice  to  the  Crow       ....        Emily  Carter 24 

Papa  and  the  Doll Geo.  Bennett 25 

The  Little  Volunteers L.  IV.  T. 27 

The  Snow-Drop Ida  Fay 28 

On  the  Way  to  School Ida  Fay 29 

See  all  the  Swallows Emily  Carter 3° 

Dear  Little  Mary Matthias  Barr 31 

Peter  and  the  Hare Emily  Carter 33 

The  Cat-Bird Marian  Douglas 34 

The  Seasons Emily  Carter 36 

Pop  Corn!   Who'll  buy? A.  D.  W. 37 

The  Baby  in  the  Basket Emily  Carter 38 

Little  Dilly-Dally Josephine  Pollard 39 

Baby's  Walk ■.  Olive  A.  IVadsivorth .                 ....  40 

My  Linnet (From  the  German) 42 

The  Nursery  Elf Josephine  Pollard 43 

Its  very  Best Marian  Douglas          .        .         .         .         .         -44 

Flower  Talk Mary  N.  Prescott       .        ...         .         .         -45 

The  Rude  Playmate Marian  Douglas 46 

Spring  Rain Mary  N.  Prescott 47 

The  Bear  and  the  Beehive .        .                ......  48 

Who  is  to  Blame  ? Emily  Carter '  49 

The  Reapers Matthias  Barr 5° 

Sleeping  in  the  Sunshine Matthias  Barr S1 

Going  for  Violets Emily  Carter 52 

The  Tardy  Boy Emily  Carter 53 

Only  a  Baby  Small Matthias  Barr 54 


M818B1 


CONTENTS. 


Taok. 

Mary's  Sleigh-Ride Emily  Carter 55 

When  Santa  Claus  comes      .  .  Elizabeth  Sill 56 

In  the  Morning      ....  .  {From  the  German) 57 

Cherry  Blossom S.  M.  Day 58 

Mamma's  Boy George  Cooper 59 

The  Sleepy  Boy Elizabeth  Sill 60 

Tommy  and  the  Woodchuck  R.  Chesterfield 61 

Kind  Mamma 63 

The  Brothers  that  did  not  Quarrel        .         .         .        Ida  Fay 64 

Sunrise Emily  Carter 65 

Summer Mary  N.  Prescott 66 

The  Fancy  Dance 66 

The  Song  of  the  Ducks Emily  Carter 68 

Grandpa's  Cherry-Tree J.  A.  Sill 69 

Jack's  Menagerie  .......        H.  Baldwin 71 

The  Crow Marian  Douglas 72 

On  the  Sea-Beach Emily  Carter 74 

The  First  Pocket Elizabeth  Sill 75 

Winter . 

Little  Birdies 

The  Travelling  Monkey        .... 

Song  of  the  Brook 

The  Tea-Party 

Bertha  to  Baby 

Who  is  it? 

Moon  so  Round  and  Yellow 
Good-by,  Birds  and  Flowers  ... 

Playing  Robinson  Crusoe     .... 
The  Song  of  the  Kettle         .... 

Under  Papa's  Helmet 

What  the  Cat  said  to  the  Monkey 

The  Bird  and  the  Stag 

What  does  the  Cock  say  ?      .        .        .        . 

Lazy  Tom 

Learning  to  Fly 

The  First  Lesson 


77 

George  Cooper 78 

Marian  Douglas 79 

A.D.W. 81 

George  Cooper 82 

Dora  Burnside 84 

George  Cooper 85 

Matthuis  Barr 86 

Matthias  Barr 87 

George  Cooper 89 

Marian  Douglas 90 

A  l/red  Selwyn 92 

93 

Emily  Carter      .         .         .         ....  94 

Matthias  Barr 95 

Emily  Carter       .......  96 

Jane  Oliver 98 

George  Cooper 99 


A  Song  of  Noses 100 


Mother's  Joy  and  Mother's  Plague 
Grandpapa's  Spectacles        .... 

Old  Trim 

The  Birds  and  the  Pond-Lily 

The  Birds 

Chimney  Tops 

The  Apple-Tree  in  Bloom    .... 

The  Lily  of  the  Valley Dora  Burnside 

Waiting  for  the  May Marian  Douglas 


Emily  Carter 101 

Elizabeth  Sill 102 

George  Bennett 103 

Emily  Carter 105 

Clara  Doty  Bates 106 

Marian  Douglas 107 

Emily  Carter 109 

no 


Santa  Claus 

The  first  Birth-Day 

A  Summer  Day     . 

A  Little  Girl's  Good-by 

Flowers  are  Springing   . 

The  Skipping-Rope 

Clever  Jack   . 

April  Fool 

The  Tradespeople  . 

The  Bird's  Return 

At  the  Pump  .        . 

The  Swallows 


George  Cooper 

Emily  Carter .  115 

George  Cooper n6 

George  Cooper "8 

Matthias  Barr "9 

Emily  Carter 120 

{From  the  German) 121 

Elizabeth  Sill 123 

Julius  Sturm 124 

George  Cooper 126 

127 

Emily  Carter "8 


The  Beautiful  Book 


M  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever,"  says  the  poet ;  and 
so  we  cannot  too  soon  begin  to  teach  the  child  to  recognize 
and  love  the  beautiful. 

We  here  give  him  the  beautiful  in  art,  and  the  beautiful 
in  thought ;  and,  if  he  has  not  yet  learned  to  read,  the  parent 
or  teacher  will  here  find  the  means  of  teaching  him  with 
ease  and  speed. 

The  method  is  plain  and  natural,  like  that  of  teaching  a 
child  to  speak.  Point  to  the  words  of  a  line  in  their  order, 
and  see  that  he  gives  his  attention  to  their  form,  size,  and 
sound.  Repeat  this  patiently,  and  for  a  short  time  every 
day ;  and  you  will  soon  be  surprised  at  his  progress. 

Do  not  trouble  yourself,  as  yet,  about  the  alphabet,  or  the 
analysis  of  syllables ;  and  let  the  little  pupil  himself  choose 
the  piece  that  you  are  to  drill  him  on. 

It  is  true  that  memory,  in  fixing  the  words  in  his  mind, 
may  often  lead  him  to  glance  too  inattentively  at  their 


6  THE  BEAUTIFUL  BOOK. 

forms.  But  memory  will  prove  more  a  help  than  a  bar, 
even  here ;  for  it  will  serve  the  place  of  a  teacher,  by 
telling  him  what  the  words  are  when  he  does  attend,  and 
thus  enabling  him  to  study  them  out  by  himself. 

A  great  advantage  of  the  word-system  is,  that,  to  the 
child  himself,  it  makes  learning  to  read  a  pleasure  instead 
of  a  toil. 

The  numerous  pictures  are,  it  is  believed,  of  a  character 
to  develop  and  improve  a  taste  for  art. 

This  volume,  with  "  The  Easy  Book,"  which  is  in  prose, 
will  not  only  serve  as  a  quick  and  easy  means  of  teaching 
a  child  to  read,  but  will  help  to  inspire  in  him  a  genuine 
love  of  letters ;  and  thus  it  is,  in  fact,  not  only  a  beautiful, 
but  a  practically  useful  book. 

All  the  contents  are  from  "  The  Nursery,"  a  magazine 
for  youngest  readers,  issued  monthly  by  the  publisher  of 
this  volume. 


The  leaves,  they  are  falling,  falling,  falling : 
^rNpT  Red,  brown,  and  yellow,  I  see  them  fall. 

The  birds,  they  are  calling,  calling,  calling : 
Swallows  old  and  young,  I  hear  them  call. 
Come,  Mary  !  Come,  Jamie  !  Come,  Harry  and  Kate ! 
See  the  leaves  and  the  swallows  :  come,  do  not  be  late. 


LITTLE    QUARRELS. 

The  Warm  day's,  they  are  going,  going,  going : 

Come,  mount  the  hill  with  me  before  they  go. 

The  little  brooks  are  flowing,  flowing,  flowing  ; 
But  very  soon  they  all  will  cease  to  flow. 

For  the  leaves  are  falling,  falling  ;  the  swallows  flying,  flying ; 

And  soon  the  winds  of  winter  will  be  sighing,  sighing,  sighing. 

The  autumn  bees  are  humming,  humming,  humming : 

Soon  they  will  be  silent  all  and  still. 
Said  the  children,  "  We  are  coming,  coming,  coming : 

Wait  there  for  us,  Uncle  Charley,  on  the  hill. 
Come  summer,  come  winter,  come  heat,  or  come  snow, 
We're  bound  to  be  merry  wherever  we  go." 


:*•« 


THE   ACOENS. 

"  Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow." 
Yes,  darling  children,  that  is  so : 
Then  plant  your  acorns ;  do  not  fear ; 
And  fruit  will  by  and  by  appear. 
The  line  you  learn  to-day  may  be 
The  very  seed  of  Wisdom's  tree. 


LIFE'S    MORNING   AND    EVENING. 

Grandmother,  tell  me,  were  you  young  once,  and  little,  like  me  ? 
Golden  and  brown  was  your  hair  ?   smooth  and  unwrinkled  your  skin  ? 
Could  you  once  frolic  and  run  round  in  the  garden,  like  me  ? 
Grandmother,  had  you  a  doll  ?     Did  you  love  flowers  and  birds  ? 
Shall  I  a  grandmother  be  ?  totter  along  with  a  cane  ? 
Might  one  not  stay  ever  young  on  this  bright,  beautiful  earth  ?  " 

9 


MARCH. 

March  is  a  funny  old  blustering  fellow : 
He  whistles  his  tunes  from  morning  till  night; 
He  scatters  the  ground  with  crocuses  yellow, 
Then  frosts  them  over  with  white. 

Up  in  the  morning,  'mid  sunshine  playing, 
And  then,  in  an  hour,  drifting  the  snow ; 
Then  stopping,  he  thinks  of  the  children's  Maying, 
And  silently  ceases  to  blow. 

With  smiling  and  sighing,  and  raining  and  snowing, 
He  tries  to  catch  up  with  the  mild  April  showers, 
And  help  them  to  moisten  the  valleys  for  sowing, 
And  wake  up  the  exquisite  flowers. 

Moody  and  fitful,  his  footsteps  are  ranging 
From  morrow  to  morrow,  till  April  is  near ; 
Then  kissing  her  face,  with  its  tremulous  changing, 
He  leaves  there  a  smile  and  a  tear. 

Then  mute  with  the  sight  of  her  wonderful  graces, 
While  shadows  of  night  veil  his  sobbing  retreat, 
In  a  tumult  of  rain  the  last  snow  he  effaces, 
And  meltingly  dies  at  her  feet. 

10 


i»# 


This  is  the  seed, 
So  yellow  and  round, 
That  little  John  Horner  hid  in  the  ground. 


These  are  the  leaves, 
So  graceful  and  tall, 
That  grew  from  the  seed  so  yellow  and 
small. 


This  is  the  stalk, 
That  came  up  between 
The  leaves    so    pretty  and   graceful   and 
green. 

These  are  the  tassels, 
So  flowery,  that  crowned 
The  stalk,  so  smooth,  so   strong,  and   so 
round. 


THE  JOHNNY-CAKE. 


13 


These  are  the  husks, 
With  satin  inlaid, 
That  grew  'neath  the  tassels  that  drooped 
and  swayed. 


jT** 


This  is  the  silk, 
In  shining  threads  spun : 
A  treasure  it  hides  from  the  frost  and  the 


sun. 


This  is  the  treasure,  — 
Corn  yellow  as  gold,  — 
That  satin  and  silk  so  softly  unfold. 


This  is  the  cake, 
For  Johnny  to  eat, 
Made  from  the  corn  so  yellow  and  sweet 


H 


S&' 


A  COLD  DAY. 

Jack  Frost  is  a  roguish  little  fellow  : 
When  the  wintry  winds  begin  to  bellow, 
He  flies  like  a  bird  through  the  air, 
And  steals  through  the  cracks  everywhere. 

He  nips  little  children  on  the  nose ; 

He  pinches  little  children  on  the  toes ; 

He  pulls  little  children  by  the  ears, 

And  draws  from  their  eyes  the  big  round  tears. 


He  makes  little  girls  cry,  "  Oh,  oh,  oh ! 
He  makes  little  boys  say,  a  Boo  —  hoo 


hoo ! " 


But  when  we  kindle  up  a  good  warm  fire, 
Then  Jack  Frost  is  compelled  to  retire  ; 
So  up  the  chimney  skips  the  roguish  little  boy, 
And  all  the  little  children  jump  for  joy ! 


MY   CLOTHES-PINS. 

My  clothes-pins  are  but  kitchen-folk, 
Unpainted,  wooden,  small; 

And  for  six  days  in  every  week 
Are  of  no  use  at  all. 

But  when  a  breezy  Monday  comes, 
And  all  my  clothes  are  out, 

And  want  with  every  idle  wind 
To  go  and  roam  about, 

Oh  !  if  I  had  no  clothes-pins  then, 
What  would  become  of  me, 

When  roving  towels,  mounting  shirts, 
I  everywhere  should  see  ! 


16  MY  CLOTHES-PINS. 

"I  mean,"  a  flapping  sheet  begins, 

"  To  rise  and  soar  away." 
"  We  mean,"  the  clothes-pins  answer  back, 

"  You  on  this  line  shall  stay." 


-  V 

"  Oh,  let  me  !  "  pleads  a  handkerchief,  , 

"  Across  the  garden  fly." 
"  Not  while  I've  power  to  keep  you  here," 

A  clothes-pin  makes  reply. 


So,  fearlessly  I  hear*  the  wind 
Across  the  clothes-yard  pass, 

And  shed  the  apple-blossoms  down 
Upon  the  flowering  grass. 

-  s£ 
The  clothes  may  tlance  upon  the*  line, 

And  flutter  to  and  fro  : 
My  faithful  clothes-pins  hold  them  fast, 

And  will  not  let  them  go. 


My  clothes-pins  are  but  kitchen-folk, 
Unpainted,  wooden,  small ; 

And  for  six  days  in  every  week 
Are  of  no  use  at  all. 


But  still,  in  every  listening  ear, 
Their  praises  I  will  tell ; 

For  all  that  they  profess  to  do 
They  do,  and  do  it  well. 


LEARNING  TO   WALK. 


Who  comes  here  ? 

Little  boy  John, 
Brave  as  a  lion  : 

See  him  come  on ! 

What  does  he  want  ? 

A  kiss,  I  am  thinking : 
Come,  sir,  and  take  it ; 

Come  without  winking  I 


Don't  be  afraid 

Of  a  stumble  or  fall ; 
For  Johnny  must  walk, 

Although  he  is  small. 

First  one  little  foot, 
Now  forward  the  other : 

That's  right !  here  you  are, 
My  own  little  brother ! 


GRANDFATHER'S   CHAIR. 


"Y-^S 


I  love,  when  the  evenings  are  balmy  and  still, 
And  summer  is  smiling  on  valley  and  hill, 
To  see  in  the  garden  the  little  ones  there, 
SajSj^Ri     All  happy  and  smiling  round  grandfather's  chair. 


.' 


Such  stories  he  tells  them, — such  tales  of  delight, — 
Such  wonders  to  dream  of  by  day  and  by  night, 
It's  little  they're  thinking  of  sorrow  and  care, 
Their   bright   faces   beaming  round  grandfather's 
chair. 


And   words,   too,   of    wisdom,   fall   oft    from    his 

tongue ; 
Dear  lessons  to  cherish  and  treasure  while  young  ; 
Bright  things  to  remember  when  white  is  their 

hair, 
And  some  of  them  sit  in  a  grandfather's  chair. 


Ah !  little  ones,  love  him,  be  kind  while  you  may, 
For  swiftly  the  moments  are  speeding  away ; 
Not  long   the  kind  looks  and  the  love  you  may 
share, 
S    That  beam  on  you  now  from  a  grandfather's  chair. 


feftne 


aid 


~Tr-r 


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r!Tv;:«vW< ''''■: 


SUNDOWN. 


19 


SUNDOWN. 

Now   the   sun    is   setting; 

See   the   western   sky : 
How   those   rays   of  glory 

Flush    the   clouds    on   high ! 

Tree   and   grass   and   flower 
Love   the    crimson   light. 

Sun,  thy   smile   sheds   gladness  : 
Now,  good-night,  good-night ! 

Birds  and   lambs   and   children 
Soon   will   go  to   sleep : 

Father   dear   in   heaven, 
Bless   us   all,  and   keep ! 


TIZ-A-RING. 

"  Tiz-a-ring,  tiz-a-ring ! 
What  a  funny  song  to  sing ! 
You're  a  cunning  little  thing, 

Busy  bee,  busy  bee ! 
Though  you  fly  so  far  and  long, 
And  your  wings  are  good  and  strong, 
Yet  you  sing  no  other  song, 

Busy  bee,  busy  bee ! 

"  I  am  sure,  if  I  were  you, 
I  would  learn  a  tune  or  two 
From  the  birds  that  sip  the  dew 

By  your  side,  busy  bee  ! 
So  that  with  your  gauzy  wing 
You  might  fly,  and  sweetly  sing 
Something  else  but  tiz-a-ring, 

All  the  day,  busy  bee !  " 

?  I'm  too  busy,  don't  you  see, 
To  be  learning  melody," 
Quoth  the  cunning  little  bee, 

And  went  hurrying  along. 
*  Tiz-a-ring  may  sound  but  queer 
To  my  little  critic's  ear ; 
But  you'll  like  my  honey,  dear, 

If  you  do  not  like  my  song." 


A    LITTLE    TEASE. 


I  know  a  little  fellow 

Who  is  such  a  wilful  tease, 
That,  when  he's  not  in  mischief, 

He  is  never  at  his  ease : 
He  dearly  loves  to  frolic, 

And  to  play  untimely  jokes 
Upon  his  little  sister, 

And  upon  the  older  folks. 

He  rings  the  bell  for  Sarah, 

And  then  slyly  runs  away  ; 
And  tries  to  make  a  fool  of  her 

A  dozen  times  a  day : 
He  hides  away  in  corners, 

To  spring  suddenly  in  sight ; 
And  laughs,  oh  !  very  heartily, 

To  see  her  jump  with  fright. 


When  kitty's  lying  quiet, 

And  curled  up  warm  and  snug, 
This  little  fellow  always  feels 

Like  giving  her  a  hug ; 
And  kitty  from  his  fond  embrace 

Would  surely  never  flinch, 
Did  she  not  know  the  little  tease 

Would  give  her  many  a  pinch. 

But  this  provoking  fellow 

Has  a  very  curious  way 
Of  feeling  rather  hurt  at  tricks 

That  other  people  play,  — 
Just  like  some  older  jokers, 

Who  laugh  at  fun  they  make, 
Bat  never  can  enjoy  the  fun 

Of  jokes  they  have  to  take. 


'21 


CAROL   FOR   SPRING. 

Winter  is  done ! 
Daisies  are  lifting  their  heads  to  the  sun  ; 
Mayflowers,  smiling  the  soft  winds  to  greet, 
Burst  into  loveliness  sudden  and  sweet  ; 
Primroses,  pale  as  with  looking  on  snow, 
Crocuses,  violets,  see  how  they  grow  ! 
Robins  and  bluebirds  make  nests  in  the  sun  : 

Winter  is  done ! 
Sister  of  Summer,  your  reign  is  begun  ! 

Winter  is  done  ! 
Out  of  its  death  all  this  glory  is  won  ! 
Down  at  the  roots  where  the  fallen  leaves  cling, 
Wrecks  of  the  Autumn  make  blossoms  for  Spring  ; 
Dust  of  the  rose-leaves  gives  bloom  to  the  rose  ; 
Life  out  of  death  thus  eternally  grows  ; 
Earth's  blooming  children  come  back  one  by  one  : 

Winter  is  done  ! 
Sister  of  Summer,  your  reign  is  begun  ! 


Sunny  day,  joyful  day, 
Do  not  go  so  fast  away ; 
For  this  is  the  month  of  May, 
And  we  love  to  have  you  stay. 


On  the  banks,  in  sunny  nooks, 

In  the  meadows,  by  the  brooks, 

Better  even  than  story-books, 

Wild  flowers  charm  us  with  their  looks. 

See  !  you  need  not  wander  far : 
Birds  are  singing,  "  Here  they  are ! " 
Sunny  day,  joyful  day, 
Do  npt  go  so  fast  away ! 


TOMMY'S  ADVICE   TO   THE   CROW. 


Crow,  crow,  you  look  very  grave : 

But  people  do  whisper  that  you  are  a  knave  ; 

That  you  lurk  in  the  fields  to  pilfer  our  corn  ; 

And  a  robber  have  been  from  the  time  you  were  born. 


Crow,  crow,  you  wear  a  black  coat ; 

And  you  never  indulge  in  a  blithe,  jolly  note  : 

But  for  all  your  gravity,  sir,  I  think 

You  are  worse  than  the  madcap  bobolink. 

He  does  not  dress  nor  talk  like  a  saint ;  . 
He  drawls  not,  nor  preaches ;  he  uses  no  paint ; 
But  he  lets  our  corn  and  our  rye  alone  ; 
And  he  carries  away  no  food  but  his  own. 


A  little  honesty,  sir,  would  be 
The  better  for  you  and  the  better  for  me  : 
Stop  being  a  robber,  stop  breaking  the  law, 
Or  doff  your  black  habit,  and  never  say,  "  Caw." 


24 


PAPA  AND   THE  DOLL. 


Oh  the  pretty  lady  Doldy ! 
With  her  fresh,  round,  rosy  face  , 
With  her  rich,  red  Garibaldi, 
Trimmed  around  with  tatted  lace : 
See  her  watch  too  j  real  Geneva  ! 
Well,  now,  that's  the  time  o'  day. 
I'm  ashamed  of  my  old  lever  : 
It  was  never  half  so  gay. 

How  her  golden  hair  is  shining  ! 
Who  has  curls  so  fair  and  bright  ? 
Just  like  sunny  tendrils  twining 
Round  her  eyes,  blue  beads  of  light : 
What  an  arm  !  how  nicely  rounded  ! 
What  a  soft  and  dimpled  hand  ! 
How  the  taper  wrist  is  rounded 
With  the  bracelet's  jewelled  band ! 


25 


26  PAPA  AND    THE  DOLL. 

Hold  her  up,  my  little  Mary ; 
Let  me  see  the  titmouse  feet, 
Small  enough  for  any  fairy, 
With  morocco  shoes  so  neat : 
Pray  don't  let  her  walk  a  distance, 
Or  you'll  never  keep  them  bright. 
What,  not  walkjw'rthout  assistance  ! 
Oh,  dear  me  !  pernaps  you're  right. 

Ah !  I'm  sure  she's  smiling  at  me 

With  her  dainty  coral  lips  : 

Does  she  want  to  come  and  pat  me 

With  those  tiny- finger-tips? 

No,  my  dear,  I  will  not  take  her. 

I  am  not  a  tender  nurse  ; 

I  might  rumple,  squeeze,  or  shake  her; 

Let  her  fall ;  that  would  be  worse. 

Well,  your  nursery's  quite  a  model, 
Fitted  up  so  smart  and  gay : 
Round  it  little  Ned  can  toddle, 
You  and  Sister  Rosa  play. 
Doldy's  cradle,  too,  for  certain  : 
Do  just  let  me  have  a  peep  ! 
Oh  !   how  sweet  behind  that  curtain 
Blue-eyed  beauty  soon  will  sleep  ! 

I'll  not  stay  while  you  undress  her, 
And  put  on  her  bed-gown  white : 
I  will  stoop  and  gently  kiss  her ; 
Whisper  in  her  ear,  "Good-night." 
You  must  wake  her  in  the  morning, 
All  her  things  in  order  placed  ; 
In  her  robing  and  adorning 
.  Show  the  very  nicest  taste. 


THE    LITTLE  VOLUNTEERS. 


Three  cheers  !  three  cheers 

For  the  little  volunteers ! 
Oh,  what  a  merry  sight  it  is  to  see  them  pass, 
Knee-deep  in  buttercups  and  ankle-deep  in  grass ! 
Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  as  onward  they  go 
Over  the  old  fence  to  rush  upon  the  foe. 
One  with  a  rake,  and  another  with  a  cane, — 
Now  look  out  for  the  wounded  and  the  slain ! 

Three  cheers !  three  cheers 

For  the  valiant  volunteers ! 


27 


28 


THE  SNOW-DROP. 


The  curly-headed  captain  is  not  very  large : 
See  him  scale  the  fence,  and  lead  the  fearful  charge ! 
The  corporal  who  follows  sees  the  captain  fall, 
Just  as  he  jumps  down  into  the  clover  tall ; 
Then,  what  with  Nero's  barking  and  the  cackling 

of  the  geese, 
I  have  to  tell  the  army  they  must  keep  the  peace. 
But  three  cheers !  three  cheers 
For  the  little  volunteers  ! 


SOCc 


THE    SNOW-DRQP. 


Darling  little  snow-drop, 

Coming  up  so  boldly, 
While  the  winds  of  winter 

Yet  are  blowing  coldly ! 
When  the  ponds  were  freezing, 

Blooming  I  have  found  you, 
Little  milk-white  flower, 

With  the  snow  all  round  you  ! 


Do  you  come  so  early, 

In  these  wintry  hours, 
Just  to  tell  us  kindly, 

Spring  is  near  with  flowers  ? 
Darling  little  snow-drop, 

Hope  and  joy  you  lend  us  : 
God  still  loves  his  children,  — 

Loves,  and  will  befriend  us  1 


ON  THE   WAY  TO   SCHOOL. 

Susan,  Henry,  John,  and  Joe, 
See  them  there  all  in  a  row : 
On  their  way  to  school  they  go. 

They  have  learned  their  lessons  well ; 
They  can  read,  and  they  can  spell ; 
They  of  lakes  and  towns  can  tell. 

They  start  early  on  their  way, 
And  stop  not  to  climb  and  play, 
Though  it  is  a  pleasant  day. 

But,  when  school  at  last  is  done, 
They'll  be  ready  all  for  fun  : 
They  will  frolic,  climb,  and  run. 


30 


SEE  ALL    THE  SWALLOWS. 


SEE   ALL   THE   SWALLOWS. 

Come  back  to  us,  dear  swallows ! 
For  Spring  your  coming  follows : 

To  your  old  nest  beneath  our  eaves, 
come  back! 
We  love  to  see  you  dearly, 
You  feed  your  young  so  queerly, 

And  bring  sweet  hopes  of  summer  in 
your  track. 


DEAR  LITTLE   MARY 

Dear  little  Mary, 

Susan  and  Loo, 
Jenny  and  Lizzie, 

And  Margaret  too ; 
Now  the  sun's  peeping, 

Softly  and  sly, 
In  at  the  window, 

Pets,  where  you  lie! 

Up,  up,  my  darlings, 

Up  and  away! 
Out  to  the  meadows 

Sweet  with  new  hay ; 


W^-  'MA 


31 


32 


DEAR  LITTLE  MARY. 


Out  where  the  berries, 

Dewy  and  red, 
Hang  in  great  clusters, 

High  overhead ! 

Out  where,  the  golden-rod 
Bends  on  its  stalk, 

And  the  wild  roses 
Gladden  our  walk ; 

Where  amid  bushes 


M 
w 


** 


Hidden  but  heard, 

V 

Joyous  and  grateful 

Sings  many  a  bird. 

Out  where  the  waters, 

Merry  and  sweet, 

Ripple  and  tinkle 

Close  by  your  feet ; 

Where  all  things  happy. 

Fragrant,  and  fair, 

In  the  bright  morning 

Welcome  you  there ! 

- 

$$ETER 


Thoughtless  little  Peter,  with  his  little  gun, 

Went  out  by  the  woodside  for  a  little  fun  : 

Saw  a  happy  little  hare  who  on  clover  fed ; 

With  his  little  gun  took  aim,  and  shot  him  in  the  head. 


Thoughtful  little  Peter,  sad  for  what  he'd  done, 
Sat  down  on  a  stump,  and  there,  by  it,  laid  his  gun ; 
Wished  that  he  could  bring  to  life  that  little  hare  so  still 
"  Never  more,"  said  he,  "  will  I  a  harmless  creature  kill." 


THE  CAT-BIRD. 

"Sweet,  sweet!  tyr-ril,  tyr-ril,  tyr-ree!" 
The  cat-bird  on  the  cherry-tree,  — 
How  gayly  and  how  loud  he  sings, 
As  on  the  blooming  bough  he  swings  !  — 
"  Tyr-ril,  tyr-ree  !  "     His  mate  he  calls, 
His  carol  with  the  blossoms  falls. 

Oh !  when  he's  pleased,  search  far  and  wide, 
No  sweeter  singer's  known  ; 
But  then,  alas  !    the  cat-bird  has 
A  temper  of  his  own. 

And  if,  by  chance,  his  will  is  crossed, 

At  once  his  spite  he  shows,  — 

"  Maow,  maow  !  pay,  pay  !  "  his  song  is  changed  ; 

And  all  the  music  goes. 

If  he  can  have,  to  build  his  nest, 
The  place  that  pleases  him  the  best ; 
If  winds  are  soft,  and  skies  are  bright, 
And  all  the  world  with  him  goes  right,  — 
"  Tyr-ril,  tyr-ree  !  "  you  never  heard 
A  sweeter-voiced,  more  charming  bird. 

But  if  his  mate  to  him  should  say, 
"  I  mean,  for  once,  to  have  my  way ; " 
Or  if  a  sparrow,  or  a  thrush, 
The  withered  grass  should  take, 
That  he  had  thought  to  use  himself 
When  he  his  nest  should  make ; 


THE    CAT- BIRD.  35 

Or  if,  too  near  his  chosen  tree, 

His  head  a  robin  shows,  — 

" Maow,  maow !  pay,  pay! "  his  song  is  changed ; 

And  all  the  music  goes. 


0  cat-bird !  'mid  the  falling  flowers 
Upon  the  cherry-tree, 
How  many  people  I  have  seen, 
That  were,  how  much  like  thee  ! 

From  cheerful  homes  and  loving  hearts, 
Too  well,  alas  !  I  know, 
There's  nothing  like  a  temper-fit 
To  make  the  music  go. 


1  ^i^^h<n 


THE    SEASONS. 

MARY. 

How  I  love  the  blooming  Spring, 
When  the  birds  so  gayly  sing ! 

JOHN. 

More  the  Summer  me  delights, 
With  its  lovely  days  and  nights. 

EMILY. 

Autumn  is  the  best  of  all, 

With  its  fruits  for  great  and  small. 

RICHARD. 

Nay !  old  Winter  is  the  time  ! 
Jolly  then  the  sleigh-bells'  chime  I 

GRANDMOTHER. 

Every  season  will  be  bright, 
Children,  if  you'll  live  aright. 


alfif* 

MM 


7m 


POP-CORN  !     WHO'LL  BUY  ? 


Who  will  buy  my  pop-corn  ?  — 
Bags  of  snowy  pop-corn, 

Freshly  done  to-day. 
When  they're  fairly  popping, 
You  should  see  them  hopping, 

Like  a  school  at  play. 

Pop-corn  !     Who'll  buy  ? 

Who  will  buy  my  pop-corn  ?  — 
Pretty  balls  of  pop-corn, 

Sweet,  and  creamy  white ; 
Just  like  snowballs  blowing, 
In  the  garden  growing, 

Good  for  taste  or  sight. 

Pop-corn  !    Who'll  buy  I 


THE  BABY  IN  THE  BASKET. 


"  Now,  where  are  you  going,  this  beautiful  day  ?  " 
"  Good  sir,  I  am  going  to  help  rake  the  hay." 
"  But  you  must  be  weary  and  worn,  I'm  afraid. 

With  that  heavy  load  on  your  back,  little  maid." 
"  Oh,  no,  sir !  the  load  is  not  heavy  to  me  : 

The  load  is  my  own  baby-sister,  you  see." 
u  I  see  ;  and  this  lesson  I  get  from  the  sight : 

Love  makes  labor  easy  and  any  load  li^ht." 


LITTLE  DILLY-DALLY. 


I  don't  believe  you  ever 
Knew  any  one  as  silly 
As  the  girl  I'm  going  to  tell  about, 
A  little  girl  named  Dilly. 
Dilly-dally-Dilly! 

Oh !  she  is  very  slow : 
She  drags  her  feet 
Along  the  street, 
And  dilly-dallies  so ! 

She's  always  late  for  breakfast, 

Without  a  bit  of  reason ; 
For  Bridget  rings  and  rings  the  bell, 
And  wakes  her  up  in  season. 
Dilly-dally-Dilly! 

How  can  you  be  so  slow  ? 
Why  don't  you  try 
To  be  more  spry, 
And  not  dilly-dally  so  ? 


'Tis  just  the  same  at  evening; 

And  it's  really  quite  distressing 
To  see  the  time  that  Dilly  wastes 
In  dressing  and  undressing. 
Dilly-dally-Dilly 

Is  always  in  a  huff 
If  you  hurry  her, 
Or  worry  her, 
And  says,  "There's  time  enough.' 

Since  she's  neither  sick  nor  helpless, 

It  is  quite  a  serious  matter, 
That  she  should  be  so  lazy,  that 
We  still  keep  scolding  at  her. 
Dilly-dally-Dilly, 

It's  very  wrong,  you  know, 
To  do  no  work 
That  you  can  shirk, 
And  dilly-dally  so. 


^i* 


;mmw/MM> 


On  a  bright  and  a  beautiful  summer's  day, 
Mr.  Baby  thought  best  to  go  walking  away  : 
His  little  white  sack  he  was  well  buttoned  in 
And  his  shady  hat  was  tied  under  his  chin. 


t€&l 


One  hand  was  tight  clasped  in  his  nurse's  own ; 
The  other  held  fast  a  little  white  stone  : 
There  hung  by  his  side  his  new  tin  sword ; 
And  thus  he  began  his  walks  abroad. 

He  walked  and  he  walked ;  and  by  and  by 
He  came  to  the  pen  where  the  piggy-wigs  lie  : 
They  rustled  about  in  the  straw  in  front ; 
And  every  piggy  said,  "  Grunt,  grunt,  grunt !  " 

So  he  walked  and  he  walked  ;  and,  what  do  you  think  ! 
He  came  to  the  trough  where  the  horse  was  at  drink : 
He  cried,  "  Go  along  !     Get  up,  old  Spot !  " 
And  the  horse  ran  away  with  a  trot,  trot,  trot. 

So  he  walked  and  he  walked  ;  and  he  came  at  last 
To  the  yard  where  the  sheep  were  folded  fast : 
He  cried  through  the  crack  of  the  fence,  "  Hurrah  !  " 
And  all  the  old  sheep  said,  "  Baa,  baa,  baa  ! " 


BABY'S    WALK. 


41 


So  he  walked  and  he  walked  till  he  came  to  the  pond, 
Of  which  all  the  ducks  and  the  ducklings  are  fond : 
He  saw  them  swim  forward,  and  saw  them  swim  back 
And  all  the  ducks  said  was,  "  Quack,  quack,  quack  !  " 


So  he  walked  and  he  walked  ;  and  it  came  to  pass, 
That  he  reached  the  field  where  the  cows  eat  grass  ; 
He  said  with  a  bow,  "  Pray,  how  do  you  do  ?  " 
And  the  cows  all  answered,  "  Moo,  moo,  moo  !  " 


So  he  walked  and  he  walked  to  the  harvest-ground  ; 
And  there  a  dozen  of  turkeys  he  found  : 
They  were  picking  the  grasshoppers  out  of  the  stubble  ; 
And  all  the  turkeys  said,  "  Gobble,  gobble,  gobble !  ' 

So  he  walked  and  he  walked  to  the  snug  little  house 
Where  Towser  was  sleeping  as  still  as  a  mouse  : 
Then  the  baby  cried  out,  "  Halloo,  old  Tow  !  " 
And  the  dog  waked  up  with  a  "  Bow,  wow,  wow 


So  he  walked  and  he  walked,  till  he  came  once  more 
To  the  sunshiny  porch  and  the  open  door  ; 
And  mamma  looked  out  with  a  smile,  and  said, 
"  It's  time  for  my  baby  to  go  to  bed." 

So  he  drank  his  milk,  and  he  ate  his  bread  ; 
And  he  walked  and  he  walked  to  his  little  bed  ; 
And  with  sword  at  his  side,  and  the  stone  in  his  hand. 
He  walked  and  he  walked  to  the  Sleepy  Land. 


MY  LINNET. 


WOFUL  bereavement !    O  hap- 
piness  fled ! 
O  grief  for  to-day  and  to-morrow ! 
My  linnet,  my  bright,  merry  linnet, 
is  dead  : 
Come,  birdlings,  come  join  in  my 
sorrow. 


Then  came  all  the  dear  little  birds  to  the  call,  — 
The  thrush  and  the  finch  and  the  sparrow, 

The  blackbird,  the  robin,  the  woodpecker,  all, 
The  swallow,  too,  swift  as  an  arrow. 

Four  took  up  the  bier,  and  the  rest  fluttered  on 
To  the  grove  where  the  woodbine  was  twining  ; 

For  all  of  them  loved  the  dear  bird  that  was  gone ; 
And  even  the  flowers  seemed  repining. 

Above  the  green  turf  where  their  burden  was  laid, 
They  chirped  their  regret  as  they  hovered : 

The  robin  a  heap  of  the  sweetest  leaves  made, 
And  with  it  the  lifeless  form  covered. 


THE   NURSERY  ELF. 

Dear  little  feet,  how  you  wander  and  wander, 

Little  twin  truants,  so  fleet ! 
Dear  little  head,  how  you  ponder  and  ponder 

Over  the  things  that  you  meet ! 

Dear  little  tongue,  how  you  chatter  and  chatter 

Over  your  innocent  joys ! 
Oh !  but  the  house  is  alive  with  your  clatter,  — 

Shaking,  indeed,  with  your  noise. 

Can't  you  be  quiet  a  moment,  sweet  rover  ? 

Is  there  no  end  to  your  fun  ? 
Soon  the  *  old  sand-man  "  will  sprinkle  you  over, 

Then  the  day's  frolic  is  done. 

Come  to  my  arms,  for  the  daylight  is  dying, 

Closer  the  dark  shadows  creep ; 
Come  like  a  bird  that  is  weary  of  flying ; 

Come,  let  me  sing  you  to  sleep. 

43 


ITS    VERT    BEST. 

The  snow-Hakes  fall  like  thistle-down ; 

The  wind  blows  cold  without : 

There's  not  one  thing  that  seems  like  spring 

But  this  potato-sprout ! 

And  this  is  but  a  sorry  sight, 

It  looks  so  weak  and  thin  and  white. 

"  Oh,  yes ! "  says  the  potato-sprout, 

"  I've  never  had  the  light ; 

Yet,  poorly  as  I  look,  I  know 

I've  tried  my  very  best  to  grow. 

"  When  dropped  the  red  and  yellow  leaves, 

The  farm-boy  threw  me  in 

The  very  darkest  corner  of 

The  darkest  cellar-bin. 

I  did  not  see  one  sunny  ray  ; 

I  could  not  tell  the  night  from  day : 

But,  when  long  weeks  had  worn  away, 

I  felt  it  must  be  spring,  and  so 

I  tried  my  very  best  to  grow. 

"  Could  I  be  planted  in  the  ground, 

And  feel  the  sun  and  showers, 

I  should  rise  tall  and  straight  and  green, 

And  have  a  crown  of  flowers. 

Oh  !  judge  me  not  by  what  you  see  : 

I  am  not  what  I  want  to  be ! 

The  sun  has  never  shone  for  me ; 

But  in  the  dark,  at  least,  I  know, 

I've  tried  my  very  best  to  grow." 


FLOWER-TALK. 

What  does  the  crocus  say  ? 

"  Summer  sunshine's  on  the  way." 

What  does  the  wind-flower  sing  ? 
"  We  are  the  footprints  of  spring." 

What  says  the  columbine  ? 

"  April  showers  make  me  fine." 

What  does  the  violet  speak  ? 

"  Those  who  want  me,  they  must  seek." 

Breathes  the  lilac's  rich  perfume, 
"  Children  love  my  purple  bloom." 

What  has  the  king-cup  told  ? 

*  All  the  fields  I  fringe  with  gold." 

"  Sweetness,"  whispers  mignonette, 
"  Follows  where  my  feet  are  set." 

What  does  the  pansy  sigh  ? 

"  Balm  for  wounded  hearts  am  I." 

Nods  the  sunflower  in  her  bed, 
"  See  the  glory  round  my  head ! " 

Sweet-brier  blushes,  "  Who  would  hold 
What  he  prizes,  must  be  bold." 

45 


THE   RUDE   PLAYMATE. 

*  Oak-leaf  and  maple-leaf !  "     Hear  the  wind  call : 
"Beech-leaf and  willow-leaf,  flutter  and  fall! 
Red  leaves  and  yellow  leaves,  orange  and  brown, 
Dance  on  the  shaken  boughs,  dance,  and  come  down! 
I'll  be  your  playfellow ;  careless  and  gay, 
We  will  keep  sporting  through  all  of  the  day : 
Up  in  the  air,  or  about  on  the  ground, 
Merrily,  merrily  whirling  around, 
Hither  and  thither,  wherever  I  blow, 
Over  the  hills  and  the  fields  you  shall  go. 

"  Red  leaves  and  yellow  leaves,  flutter  and  fall ! 
Come  to  me,  come  to  me!"     Hear  the  wind  calL 
Fair  are  his  promises.     Off  from  the  bough, 
Down  comes  a  pretty  red  maple-leaf  now. 
Poor  little  thing !     By  to-night  it  will  be 
Wishing  again  it  were  back  on  the  tree. 
Rude  is  the  wild  wind,  and  rough  is  his  play ; 
Hardest  of  labor  is  sporting  all  day. 

46 


SPRING   RAIN. 

While  it  patters,  while  it  pours, 
Little  folks  are  kept  indoors ; 
Little  birds  sing  through  the  rain, 
"  Dreaming  flowers,  awake  again  ! 
From  the  damp  mould  lift  your  bloom ; 
Make  the  earth  sweet  with  perfume." 


And  the  flowers,  one  and  all, 

Answer  to  this  cheery  call : 

Crocuses  begin  to  thrill ; 

Violets  thicken  on  the  hill ; 

And  the  fields  and  meadows  over, 

Shines  the  white  and  crimson  clover, 


47 


48 


THE  BEAR  AND   THE  BEE-HIVE. 

When  it  patters,  when  it  pours, 
Little  folks  are  kept  indoors, 
Looking  through  the  window-pane, 
Watching  the  unceasing  rain ; 
While  its  silver  voice  repeats, 
*  Blossoms  crown  the  earth  withsweot 


>*Kc 


THE  BEAR  AND   THE  BEE-HIVE. 

"  Here's  a  feast !  "  said  the  sly  old  bear ; 
"  Pots  of  honey,  I  do  declare  ! 
Scold  as  you  will,  you  noisy  bees : 
I'm  big  enough  to  do  as  I  please." 

Then  the  little  bees  came  out  in  a  swarm, 
And  Bruin  began  to  be  very  warm  ; 
And,  though  the  old  fellow  was  pretty  tough, 
He  soon  felt  ready  to  cry,  "  Enough ! " 


WHO   IS    TO   BLAME? 


"  Now,  what  can  this  mean  ? 

Who  is  having  a  ride 
At  this  time  of  night, 

With  his  eyes  open  wide  ? 
I  left  Johnny  snug 

In  his  own  little  bed  : 
Now  see  him  high  up 

By  somebody's  head ! 


Come  !  whom  shall  I  punish  ? 

Now,  who  is  to  blame  ? " 
Cried  Johnny,  "  Papa, 

Papa,  is  his  name. 
He  found  me  awake, 

And  watching  a  star  : 
So  do  not  scold  me, 

But  scold  him,  mamma ! " 

49 


THE    REAPERS. 

Every  morn, 

Among  the  corn, 
The  reapers  are  busy  and  blithe; 

And  a  song  they  sing, 

As  they  merrily  swing 
Around  them  the  glittering  scythe. 

They  see  the  lark, 

Like  a  tiny  spark, 
Far  up  in  the  blue,  blue  sky; 

And  beneath  their  feet 

The  dewdrops  sweet 
Like  millions  of  diamonds  lie. 


M 


SLEEPING   IN   THE   SUNSHINE. 


Sleeping  in  the  sunshine, 

Fie,  fie,  fie ! 
While  the  birds  are  soaring 

High,  high,  high! 
While  the  buds  are  opening  sweet, 
And  the  blossoms  at  your  feet 
Look  a  smiling  face  to  greet. 

Fie,  fie,  fie ! 

Sleeping  in  the  sunshine, 

Fie,  fie,  fie ! 
While  the  bee  goes  humming 

By,  by,  by! 
Is  there  no  small  task  for  you, — 
Nought  for  little  hands  to  do? 
Shame  to  sleep  the  morning  through! 

Fie,  fie,  fie ! 


GOING  FOR  VIOLETS. 

Three  little  maidens, 

Pretty  and  good, 
Seeking  for  violets, 

Went  through  the  wood. 
They  saw  a  bluebird  ; 

They  saw  a  sparrow ; 
They  met  a  small  boy 

With  bow  and  arrow. 


"  Don't  shoot  the  birdies ! " 

Cried  they  all  three  : 
"  Come  and  hunt  violets 

By  the  pine-tree." 
"  I'll  break  my  arrow," 

Said  the  small  boy; 
"  And  in  the  violets 

I'll  find  my  joy." 


THE  TAEDY  BOY. 


A  DIALOGUE. 


MOTHER. 

See  !  the  hour  for  school  is  near : 
Robert,  Robert,  do  you  hear  ? 


ROBERT. 

Mother,  mother,  do  not  fret ! 
I'm  not  through  my  breakfast  yet. 


54 


ONLY  A   BABY  SMALL. 


MOTHER. 

From  your  bed  you  should  have  sprung 
When  the  early  bell  was  rung. 

ROBERT. 

All  my  window-panes  were  white 
With  the  frost  we  had  last  night. 

MOTHER. 

If  you  would  not  be  a  dunce, 
Brave  the  cold,  and  rise  at  once. 

ROBERT. 

When  Jack  Frost  is  in  the  case, 
Bed  is  such  a  pleasant  place  ! 

MOTHER. 

He  who  loves  his  bed  too  well 
Never,  never,  will  excel. 


ROBERT. 

Mother,  mother,  do  not  scold  : 
I  shall  soon  be  eight  years  old. 

MOTHER. 

More's  the  shame  for  you,  my  son, 
Leaving  duties  thus  undone  ! 

ROBERT. 

Something  whispers  in  my  ear, 
You  are  right,  my  mother  dear. 

MOTHER. 

Then  get  down  sir,  from  your  stool, 
And  run  quickly  off  to  school. 

ROBERT. 

Off  I  go  !     You  shall  not  see 
After  this  a  drone  in  me  ! 


3jo;c 


ONLY  A  BABY  SMALL. 


Only  a  baby  small, 

Dropt  from  the  skies  ; 
Only  a  laughing  face, 

Two  sunny  eyes ; 
Only  two  cherry  lips, 

One  chubby  nose  ; 
Only  two  little  hands, 

Ten  little  toes  ; 
Only  a  golden  head, 

Curly  and  soft  ; 


Only  a  tongue  that  wags 

Loudly  and  oft  ; 
Only  a  little  brain, 

Unvexed  by  thought ; 
Only  a  little  heart, 

Troubled  with  nought ; 
Only  a  tender  flower, 

Sent  us  to  rear  ; 
Only  a  life  to  love 

While  we  are  here. 


MARY'S  SLEIGH-RIDE. 

Over  the  meadow,  and  over  the  snow, 

Slippetty,  slippetty,  slip, 
See  Mary  travelling  while  the  winds  blow, 

Nippetty,  nippetty,  nip  ! 

What  careth  she  for  the  ice  and  the  cold  ? 

Poppetty,  poppetty,  pop ! 
Pushed  on  so  fleetly  by  Tommy  the  bold, 

Hoppetty,  hoppetty,  hop ! 

Carlo  is  barking  at  sight  of  the  fun, 

Puppetty,  puppetty,  pup  ! 
Home  to  the  tea-table  see  Billy  run, 

Suppetty,  suppetty,  sup ! 

55 


"""Hi 

Wheu  sahta-claus'come^ 


A  good  time  is  coming:  I  wish  it  were  here  1  — 
The  very  best  time  in  the  whole  of  the  year : 
I'm  counting  each  day,  on  my  ringers  and  thumbs, 
The  weeks  that  must  pass  before  Santa  Claus  comes. 

Good-by  for  a  while,  then,  to  lessons  and  school  ; 
We  can  laugh,  talk,  and  sing,  without  "  breaking  the  rule ; ' 
No  troublesome  spelling,  nor  writing,  nor  sums  : 
There's  nothing  but  play-time  when  Santa  Claus  comes. 

I  suppose  I  shall  have  a  new  dolly,  of  course,  — 

My  last  one  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  her  horse ; 

And  for  Harry  and  Jack  there'll  be  trumpets  and  drums, 

To  deafen  us  all  with,  when  Santa  Claus  comes. 

I'll  hang  up  my  stocking  to  hold  what  he  brings  ; 
I  hope  he  will  fill  it  with  lots  of  nice  things  : 
He  must  know  how  dearly  I  love  sugar-plums ; 
I'd  like  a  big  box  full  when  Santa  Claus  comes. 

Then  when  the  first  snow-flakes  begin  to  come  down, 
And  the  wind  whistles  sharp,  and  the  branches  are  brown, 
I'll  not  mind  the  cold,  though  my  fingers  it  numbs  ; 
For  it  brings  the  time  nearer  when  Santa  Claus  comes. 


4lC^t 


IN  THE   MORNING. 

The  sun  is  up ;  and  its  cheerful  rays 
Shine,  all  things  round  adorning. 

A  sluggard  is  he  in  bed  who  stays : 

Like  the  sun,  let  us  rise  in  the  morning. 

The  silv'ry  brooklet  goes  purling  past, 
All  bright  in  the  early  dawning ; 

It  seems  to  run  onward  twice  as  fast : 

Like  the  brook,  let  us  run  in  the  morning. 

The  thrifty  wild  bees  are  flying  out, 
All  sloth  and  slumber  scorning ; 

O'er  field  and  garden  they're  humming  about 
Like  the  bee,  let  us  work  in  the  morning. 


57 


Little  Cherry  Blossom 

Lived  up  in  a  tree, 
And  a  very  happy 

Little  thing  was  she. 

Clad  all  through  the  winter 
In  a  dress  of  brown, 

Warm  she  was,  though  living 
In  a  northern  town. 

But  one  sunny  morning, 
Thinking  it  was  May, 

"  I'll  not  wear,"  said  Blossom, 
"  This  old  dress  to-day." 

Mr.  Breeze,  this  hearing, 

Very  kindly  said, 
"  Do  be  careful,  Blossom : 

Winter  has  not  fled." 

Blossom  would  not  listen  ; 

For  the  sky  was  bright, 
And  she  wished  to  glisten 

In  her  robe  of  white. 

So  she  let  the  brown  one 
Drop  and  blow  away, 


Leaving  her  the  white  one, 
All  so  fine  and  gay ! 

By  and  by  the  sunshine 
Faded  from  her  view  : 

How  poor  Blossom  shivered 
As  it  colder  grew  ! 

Oh  for  that  warm  wrapper 
Lying  on  the  ground  ! 

Ah  !  Jack  Frost  will  nip  her : 
He  is  prowling  round. 

Yes,  he  folds  poor  Blossom 

In  his  arms  of  ice, 
And  her  white  robe  crumples, - 

Robe  so  fine  and  nice ! 

Ah  !  poor  Cherry  Blossom  ! 

She,  in  foolish  pride, 
Changed  her  wonted  clothing, 

Took  a  cold,  and  died. 

All  ye  little  blossoms, 
Hear  me,  and  take  care : 

Go  not  clad  too  thinly, 
And  of  pride  beware. 


58 


MAMMA'S  BOY. 

"  Baby,  climbing  on  my  knee, 
Come  and  talk  a  while  to  me. 
We  have  trotted  up  and  down, 
Playing  horse,  all  over  town. 
Whose  sweet  darling  are  you,  dear  ? 
Whisper  close  to  mamma's  ear : 
Tell  me  quickly,  for  you  can." 
"  I'm  mamma's  boy,  but  papa's  man  !  " 

"  Why,  you've  many  miles  to  go 

Ere  you'll  be  a  man,  you  know. 

You  are  mamma's  own  delight ; 

You  are  mamma's  diamond  bright ; 

Rose  and  lily,  pearl  and  star, 

Love  and  dove,  —  all  these  you  are." 

"  No  !  "  the  little  tongue  began  : 

"  I'm  mamma's  boy,  but  papa's  man  !  " 


THE   SLEEPY  BOY. 


I  know  a  little  boy  ; 
And  I've  often  heard  it  said, 
That  he  never  was  so  tired 
That  he  wished  to  go  to  bed. 
Though  he  scarcely  can  hold  up 
His  drowsy  little  head, 
Yet  this  very  foolish  boy 
Cannot  bear  to  go  to  bed. 

When  the  big  golden  sun 
Has  lain  down  to  sleep  ; 
When  the  lambs  every  one 
Are  lying  by  the  sheep  ; 
When  underneath  its  wing 
Every  chick  tucks  its  head,  — 
Still  this  odd  little  boy 
Does  not  like  to  go  to  bed. 

Primroses  and  daisies 
Have  shut  their  bright  eyes  ; 
Grasshoppers  and  crickets 
Are  singing  lullabies; 


The  fire-flies  have  lighted 
Their  lamps  bright  and  yellow ; 
And  I'm  sure  it's  dreaming-time 
For  this  sleepy  little  fellow. 

The  houseless  little  child 
Who  has  no  place  to  sleep  ; 
Who  on  the  ground  must  lie, 
Or  in  some  doorway  creep  ; 
O'er  whom  no  clean  white  sheet, 
No  blanket  soft,  is  spread,  — 
How  happy  he  would  be 
If  he  could  "go  to  bed"! 

But  with  a  pretty  nest 

All  warm  and  soft  and  white, 

That's  waiting  for  this  boy, 

When  it's  time  to  say  "  Good-night !  " 

With  mamma's  loving  kiss, 

And  her  hand  upon  his  head,  — 

How  strange  a  sleepy  boy 

Should  not  like  to  go  to  bed  ! 


TOMMY  AND    THE  WOODCHUCK. 


A  pretty  brown  woodchuck  once  made  a  snug  hole 
In  a  garden  belonging  to  good  Farmer  Cole, 
Where  every  thing  grew  that  was  pleasant  to  eat, 
From  big-headed  cabbage,  to  jolly  red  beet. 

There  bloomed  the  gay  flowers  you  all  love  so  well, — 
The  many-hued  aster,  the  bonny  blue  bell, 
Pinks,  daisies,  and  tulips  ;  while  sun-flowers  tall, 
Like  yellow-haired  sentinels,  guarded  the  wall. 

At  the  door  of  his  house,  on  a  carpet  of  green, 
The  woodchuck  oft  sat,  and  purveyed  the  fair  scene : 
"  This  is  truly  a  very  fine  garden  ! "  quoth  he, 
"  And  doubtless  'twas  planted  on  purpose  for  me." 

So  he  nibbled,  and  ate,  and  he  rolled  in  the  clover, 
As  blithe  as  a  lark,  and  as  plump  as  a  plover ; 
Or  he  slept  in  his  hole,  far  from  tumult  and  noise, 
Not  worried  by  dogs,  nor  molested  by  boys. 

Farmer  Cole  (worthy  man  !)  saw  him  day  after  day  ; 
But  he  never  attempted  to  harm  nor  to  slay  : 
For  said  he,  "  Since  we've  plenty,  and  God  gave  it  all, 
We  may  well  spare  enough  for  a  creature  so  small." 


62 


TOMMY  AND    THE    WOOD  CHUCK. 


jifl  IMBA 


Our  hero  at  last  took  a  fancy  to  roam 

Far  away  from  the  quiet  seclusion  of  home  ; 

And  while  on  his  travels,  —  oh,  grievous  to  tell !  — 

A  very  unpleasant  adventure  befell. 

Having  climbed  o'er  the  wall,  through  a  field  he  must  pass, 
Where  buttercups  sprinkled  the  tall  waving  grass  ; 
While,  hidden  and  lost  in  a  cool,  shady  nook, 
Danced  o'er  the  white  pebbles  a  rollicking  brook. 

'Twas  a  pleasant  enclosure,  and  under  the  trees 
The  farmer's  cow  BrindTe  was  grazing  at  ease ; 
Her  tail  as  she  ate,  like  a  long-handled  mop, 
Going  flipperty-flopperty,  flipperty-flop. 

Now,  little  Tom  Bowers,  a  mischievous  elf, 
Who  chanced  to  be  fishing  there  all  by  himself, 
As  bad  luck  would  have  it,  the  woodchuck  espied, 
And,  seizing  the  rifle  which  lay  at  his  side, 

Shouted,  "  Now  for  some  fun  ;  for,  as  sure's  I'm  a  sinner, 
I'll  have  that  fine  fellow  served  up  for  my  dinner ! " 
But,  when  you're  too  certain,  take  heed  lest  you  fail : 
Poor  Tom  missed  his  aim,  and  shot  off  the  cow's  tail ! 


KIND  MAMMA.  63 

The  woodchuck  sped  home,  nor  behind  him  once  glanced  ! 
With  anger  and  pain  Brindle  capered  and  danced ; 
Then,  plunging  at  Tommy,  her  horns  fiercely  shook, 
And  tossed  him,  head  foremost,  right  into  the  brook ! 

Tom  scrambled  out  quickly,  both  sadder  and  wiser; 
Old  Brindle's  tail  grew  in  a  way  to  surprise  her  ; 
And  the  woodchuck,  content  with  his  snug  little  hole, 
Never  more  left  the  garden  of  good  Farmer  Cole. 


KIND   MAMMA. 

This  is  not  the  old  woman  who  lived  in  a  shoe : 
She  has  seven  children,  and  knows  what  to  do ; 
She  gives  them  some  honey  on  nice  home-made  bread ; 
She  reads  them  a  story,  then  puts  them  to  bed. 


«~      I 


THE  BROTHERS  THAT  DID  NOT 
QUARREL. 


Two  little  brothers,  loving  fair  weather, 
Played  on  the  meadow,  played  there  together  ; 
^    Yet  not  quite  lonely  were  they  that  day 
0  On  the  bright  meadow,  while  at  their  play. 


Six  little  swallows  came  and  flew  round, 
Over  the  tree-tops,  over  the  ground  ; 
Butterflies,  also,  did  not  disdain 
Near  them  to  flutter,  glad  to  remain. 

There  on  the  herbage  tender  and  green 
Might  these  two  brothers,  playful  be  seen  r 
Never  they  quarrelled  ;  no  angry  words, 
Hastily  uttered,  shocked  the  dear  birds. 

All  through  the  daytime  there  the  two  played, 
Sometimes  in  sunshine,  sometimes  in  shade. 
"And    did    not    quarrel?       Please    stop    your 

shams  ! " 
"  I  tell  you  truly.     Why,  they  were  lambs  !  " 


ar"V2 


** 


T- 


SUNRISE. 

Come  and  see  the  sunrise, 

Children,  come  and  see  ; 
Wake  from  slumber  early, 

Wake,  and  come  with'  me. 
Where  the  high  rock  towers, 

We  will  take  our  stand, 
And  behold  the  sunshine 

Kindling  all  the  land. 


You  shall  hear  the  birdies 

Sing  their  morning  lay  ; 

You  shall  feel  the  freshness 

Of  the  new-born  day  ; 

You  shall  see  the  flowers 

Opening  to  the  beams, 

tffl 

Flooding  all  the  tree-tops, 

Flashing  on  the  streams. 

=V^H^3ti":           ?     -    -           - jg--g«fe-vft-      -  y==^L   -yjg=f;  y, 

Wjpv~~                                  '^jSP? 

■ 

Bj^^gg^^^Skfij 

>VM 


Kg8St?«w.>' 


|m$1 


SUMMER. 

Summer  is  in  the  air,  odors  are  everywhere ; 

Idle  birds  are  singing  loud  and  clear ; 
Brooks  are  bubbling  over ;  heads  of  crimson  clover 

On  the  edges  of  the  field  appear. 

All  the  meadow  blazes  with  buttercups  and  daisies, 
And  the  very  hedges  are  tangles  of  perfume ; 

Butterflies  go  brushing,  all  their  plumage  crushing, 
In  among  this  wilderness  of  bloom. 

The  thorn-flower  bursts  its  sheath,  the  bramble  hangs  a  wreath, 

And  blue-eyed  grasses  beckon  to  the  sun ; 
While  gypsy  pimpernel  waits,  eager  to  foretell 

When  rainy  clouds  are  gathering  one  by  one. 

The  very  world  is  blushing,  is  carolling  and  gushing 

Its  heart  out  in  a  melody  of  song ;  [mg> 

While  simple  weeds  seem  saying,  in  grateful  transport  pray- 
"  Unto  Him  our  praises  all  belong  ! " 


>;*« 


THE  FANCY-DANCE. 

Shall  I  play  you  a  waltz,  or  a  jig  ? 
A  hornpipe,  a  march,  a  cotillon  ? 
Take  your  choice  ;  for  I  don't  care  a  fig 
I'll  scrape  you  out  tunes  by  the  million. 


THE  FANCY-DANCE.  67 

Choose  partners  !     All  right!     To  your  places! 
Come,  Ponto,  and  make  your  best  bow : 
Take  your  steps ;  show  the  ladies  what  grace  is. 
A  bow,  sir,  is  not  a  bow-wow. 


Off  you  go !  round  and  round,  hand  in  hand ! 
Right  and  left !     Promenade  down  the  middle  ! 
Keep  it  up  now  !     Oh  !  isn't  it  grand 
To  know  how  to  play  on  the  fiddle ! 


THE    SONG    OF    THE    DUCKS 

Spring  is  coming,  spring  is  here ! 
All  ye  ducks  and  geese,  draw  near! 
Come  and  join  us  in  our  folly ; 
All  ye  waddlers,  come,  be  jolly ! 

Quack,  quack !  —  quack,  quack,  quack  I 
Good  soft  mud  and  running  water 

Now  we  shall  not  lack,  —  not  lack  ! 

See,  the  snows  are  melting,  going, 
And  the  little  streams  are  flowing ; 
Buds  are  swelling,  birds  are  singing, 
Odors  sweet  the  wind  is  bringing ; 
Little  girls  and  boys  are  straying, 
Or  in  sunny  places  playing, 
Seeking  buttercups  and  clover, 
While  their  hearts  with  joy  run  over. 
But  —  what  goose  can't  see  it  plainly  ?  — 
Spring  for  us  is  given  mainly. 

Quack,  quack !  —  quack,  quack,  quack  ! 
Good  soft  mud  and  running  water 

Now  we  shall  not  lack,  —  not  lack  1 


GRANDPA'S   CHERRY-TREE. 

In  grandpa's  cherry-tree  down  by  the  barn 

What  do  you  think  I  see  ? 
Three  little  bright-eyed  birdies, 

Having  a  regular  spree. 
A  scarecrow,  dressed  in  an  old  black  coat, 

Hangs  from  the  topmost  limb  ; 
But  birds  like  these  are  not  the  birds 

To  be  afraid  of  him. 


Arthur  sits  on  a  rocking  bough, 
Eating  all  he  can  cram ; 

Dropping  a  cherry  now  and  then 
In  the  hat  of  his  brother  Sam. 


70  GRANDPA  'S    CHERRY-TREE. 

Robin's  mouth  and  pockets  are  full ; 

So  is  his  big  straw  hat ; 
And  his  apron  makes  him  a  "  red  breast : " 

I'm  very  sure  of  that. 

Bess,  the  mare,  at  the  old  barn-door 

Stands  quietly  eating  hay : 
"What  are  those  wild  young  colts  about ?." 

I  think  I  hear  her  say. 
Now,  whether  she  told  mamma  her  thoughts, 

Or  grandpa  suddenly  feared 
The  boys  were  in  mischief,  I  do  not  know  ; 

But  they've  all  disappeared. 

Ah !  here  they  come  with  a  joyful  shout, 

Straight  up  to  the  nursery-door  ; 
And  with  cherry  skins  and  stems  and  juice 

They  are  covered  o'er  and  o'er. 
Mother  says,  as  she  shakes  her  head, 

"  Boys  will  be  boys,"  I  see ; 
But  I  fear  some  stomachs  will  ache  to-night, 

To  pay  for  this  little  spree. 


JACK'S   MENAGERIE. 


"  This  is  our  grand  menagerie, 
Beneath  the  crooked  cherry-tree. 
The  exhibition  now  begins  : 
Admittance,  only  thirteen  pins  ; 
And  if  the  pins  you  cannot  borrow, 
Why,  then,  we'll  trust  you  till  to-morrow. 
Don't  be  afraid  to  walk  inside  : 
The  animals  are  safely  tied. 

*'  This  is  the  elephant  on  the  right : 
Don't  meddle  with  him,  or  he'll  bite. 
(He's  Rover,  Neddie's  dog,  you  know. 
I  wish  he  wouldn't  fidget  so  ! 
He  doesn't  think  it  fun  to  play 
Wild  beast,  and  be  chained  up  all  day.) 
We'll  feed  him,  pretty  soon,  with  meat ; 
Though  grass  is  what  he  ought  to  eat. 

"  In  that  box  are  the  kangaroos  : 
Go  near  and  pat  them  if  you  choose  ; 
(They're  very  much  like  Susie's  rabbits, 
With  just  a  change  of  name  and  habits.) 
You'll  find  them  lively  as  a  top  : 
See,  when  I  poke  them,  how  they  hop. 
They  are  not  fierce  ;  but,  oh  !  take  care  : 
We  now  approach  the  grizzly  bear. 


"  See  her  long  claws,  and  only  hear 
Her  awful  growl  when  I  go  near  ! 
We  found  her  lying  on  a  rug, 
And  just  escaped  her  fearful  hug. 
It  took  some  time  to  get  her  caged  : 
She's  terrible  when  she's  enraged. 
(You  think,  perhaps,  it's  Mabel's  cat, 
But  don't  you  be  too  sure  of  that !) 

"  Here  is  the  ostrich  in  her  pen 
(It's  Ernest's  little  bantam-hen)  : 
She  came  from  Africa,  of  course, 
And  runs  as  fast  as  any  horse  ; 
And  up  above  there  is  a  bird 
Of  whom  you  all  have  often  heard,  — 
The  eagle  ('  That  is  not,'  says  Mary, 
'A  pretty  name  for  my  canary')." 

Just  at  this  point,  I  grieve  to  say, 
The  elephant  broke  quite  away, 
O'erthrew  the  grizzly  bear  in  rage, 
Upset  the  eagle  in  his  cage, 
Flew  at  the  kangaroos,  and  then 
Attacked  the  ostrich  in  her  pen. 
Thus  ended  Jack's  menagerie 
Beneath  the  crooked  cherry-tree  ! 
71 


When,  by  the  brook,  their  silver  buds 
The  early  willows  show, 
"  Caw,  caw  !  "  the  first  warm  day  in  spring, 
Comes  flying  back  the  crow. 

"  Caw,  caw !  "     His  mate  is  close  behind, 

As  big  as  he  anal  black ; 
And  all  the  farmers  say,  "  Oh,  dear ! 

We're  sorry  they've  come  back." 

Warm  shines  the  sun ;  to  plant  their  fields 

The  farmers  soon  begin  : 
Down  fly  the  black  crow  and  his  mate, 

With  all  their  kith  and  kin. 


The  scarecrows  stand  on  every  side, 
Jj^  And  frightful  things  are  they : 

The  farmers'  children  call  and  shout, 
To  drive  the  birds  away. 

"  Caw,  caw,  caw,  caw  !  "  what  care  the  crows  ? 

The  sprouting  corn  is  sweet. 
"  Caw,  caw  !  "  they  say ;  "  we'll  have  a  feast : 

Here's  something  good  to  eat." 


72 


The  summer  days  are  long  and  bright ; 

The  rain-drops  softly  fall : 
The  corn  the  crows  have  left  behind 

Grows  green  and  straight  and  tall. 

But  when  the  first  ripe  ears  begin 

Among  the  husks  to  show, 
"  Caw,  caw !  "  the  whole  flock  after  him, 

Comes  flying  back  the  crow. 

"  Caw,  caw !  "  "  Hark,  hark  !  "  the  farmers  say  ; 

"  The  crows  begin  to  call : 
Unless  our  corn  we  harvest  now 

They'll  surely  eat  it  all." 

They  cut  the  corn-stalks  down  in  haste ; 

They  store  the  ears  away : 
"  Caw,  caw !  "  the  crow  calls  to  his  mate  ; 

"We  will  no  longer  stay." 

They  slowly  spread  their  great  black  wings ; 

They  sail  off,  flying  low ; 
And  all  the  farmers  say,  "  Good  luck ! 

"We're  glad  to  see  them  go." 

An  easy  life  the  crow  may  lead  ; 

But  who  would  like  to  be 
A  visitor  that  one  and  all 

Are  sorry  when  they  see  ? 


r»** 


**».  •iti 


3g^  ^ 


*      ON    THE    SEA-BEACH. 

See  the  wild  waves,  how  they  toss  up  the  spray ! 
Why  should  not  we  be  as  merry  as  they  ? 
Come,  my  own  sister,  and  walk  on  the  sand, 
Beside  the  blue  ocean  :  oh !  is  it  not  grand  ? 

Hark  to  the  roar  of  the  surf  on  the  rocks ! 
The  foam  rushes  onward  like  snowy-white  flocks. 
Then  back  the  waves  hurry  away  from  the  shore ; 
Then  forward  they  rush  with  another  wild  roar. 


The  land,  oh  the  land,  my  dear  sister,  for  me !  — 
The  good  land,  that  stirs  not  for  wind  or  for  sea. 
The  ocean  I  love :  but  I  love  it  the  best 
When  I  stand  on  the  shore ;  for  the  shore  is  at  rest. 


THE   FIRST  POCKET. 

What  is  this  tremendous  noise  ? 

What  can  be  the  matter  ? 

Willie's  coming  up  the  stairs 

With  unusual  clatter. 

Now  he  bursts  into  the  room, 

Noisy  as  a  rocket : 

"  Auntie  !  I  am  five  years  old  — 

And  I've  got  a  pocket ! " 


Eyes  as  round  and  bright  as  stars ; 
Cheeks  like  apples  glowing ; 
Heart  that  this  new  treasure  fills 
Quite  to  overflowing. 


76 


THE  FIRST  POCKET. 


"  Jack  may  have  his  squeaking  boots ; 
Kate  may  have  her  locket : 
I've  got  something  better  yet, — 
I  have  got  a  pocket !  " 


All  too  fresh  the  joy  to  make 
Emptiness  a  sorrow : 
Little  hand  is  plump  enough 
To  fill  it —  till  to-morrow. 
And,  e'er  many  days  were  o'er, 
Strangest  things  did  stock  it : 
Nothing  ever  came  amiss 
To  this  wondrous  pocket. 

Leather,  marbles,  bits  of  string 
Licorice-sticks  and  candy, 
Stones,  a  ball,  his  pennies  too : 
It  was  always  handy. 
And,  when  Willie's  snug  in  bed, 
Should  you  chance  to  knock  it, 
Sundry  treasures  rattle  out 
From  this  crowded  pocket. 


Sometimes  Johnny's  borrowed  knife 

Found  a  place  within  it  : 

He  forgot  that  he  had  said, 

"  I  want  it  just  a  minute" 

Once  the  closet-key  was  lost ; 

No  one  could  unlock  it : 

Where  do  you  suppose  it  was  ?  — 

Down  in  Willie's  pocket ! 


0 


f  WINTER. 

Winter  day !  frosty  day ! 
God  a  cloak  on  all  doth  lay. 
On  the  earth  the  snow  he  sheddeth ; 
O'er  the  lamb  a  fleece  he  spreadeth ; 
Gives  the  bird  a  coat  of  feather 
To  protect  it  from  the  weather ; 
Gives  the  children  home  and  food. 
Let  us  praise  him !     God  is  good. 
Should  the  wind  rise  high  and  higher, 
We  can  warm  us  by  the  fire : 
Should  the  snow  hide  all  the  ground, 
Warmth  and  shelter  can  be  found. 
Fuel  waits  us  in  the  wood : 
God  is  bountiful  and  good. 


LITTLE    BIEDIES. 

What  do  birdies  dream  of? 
Flowers  and  leaves  and  waving  wheat, 
Brooks  and  buds  and  mosses  sweet, 
Nooks  all  hidden  from  the  heat, 

Little  birdies  dream  of. 

What  do  birdies  sing  of  ? 
Morning  dew-drops  pearly  fair, 
Sunshine  rippling  down  the  air, 
Heaven's  rich  beauty  everywhere, 

Little  birdies  sing  of. 

What  are  birdies  proud  of? 
Soft-lined  houses  upon  the  tree, 
Baby  birdies,  one,  two,  three,  — 
These,  my  pet,  you  still  may  see 

Little  birdies  proud  of! 


¥l\e  Wkvellii^  >Ioi}key. 

My  master  grinds  an  organ  : 
And  I  pick  up  his  money ; 

And,  when  you  see  me  doing  it, 
You  call  it  very  funny. 


But,  though  I  dance  and  caper,  still 

I  feel  at  heart  forlorn  : 
I  wish  I  were  in  monkey-land, — 

The  place  where  I  was  born ! 


79 


80  THE   TRAVELLING  MONKEY. 

There  grow  the  great  green  cocoanuts 
Around  the  palm-tree's  crown : 

I  used  to  climb  and  pick  them  off, 

And  hear  them  —  crack !  —  come  down. 

There,  all  day  long,  the  purple  figs 
Are  dropping  from  the  bough; 

There  hang  the  ripe  bananas:  oh, 
I  wish  I  had  some  now! 

Fd  feast,  and  feast,  and  feast,  and  feast; 

And  you  should  have  a  share. 
How  pleasant  'tis  in  monkey-land ! 

Oh,  would  that  I  were  there ! 

On  some  tall  tree-top's  highest  bough, 
So  high  the  clouds  would  sail 

Just  over  me,  I  wish  that  I 
Were  swinging  by  my  tail ! 

I'd  swing,  and  swing,  and  swing,  and  swing 

How  merry  that  would  be! 
But,  oh !   a  travelling  monkey's  life 

Is  very  hard  for  me. 


What  was  the  song  of  the  meadow  brook, 
As  under  the  willows  his  way  he  took  ? 

Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  ? 
"  Let  me  play  a  while  as  I  will : 
By  and  by  I  must  turn  the  mill, 

As  farther  down  I  go. 

"  Daisies,  hanging  over  my  side, 
Beautiful  daisies,  starry-eyed, 

Kiss  me  for  I  must  go  1 
But  think  of  me  as  I  turn  the  wheel, 
Grinding  the  corn  into  powdery  meal 

And  drifts  of  golden  snow." 

81 


THE     TEA-PARTY. 

The  dolls  had  a  tea-party :  wasn't  it  fun ! 
In  ribbons  and  laces  they  came,  one  by  one. 
We  girls  set  the  table,  and  poured  out  the  tea; 
And  each  of  us  held  up  a  doll  on  our  knee. 

You  never  saw  children  behave  half  so  well : 
Why,  nobody  had  any  gossip  to  tell ! 
And  (can  you  believe  it  ?)  for  badness,  that  day, 
No  dolly  was  sent  from  the  table  away. 

One  dolly,  however,  the  proudest  one  there, 
Was  driven  almost  to  the  verge  of  despair, 
Because  she  had  met  with  a  simple  mishap, 
And  upset  the  butter-plate  into  her  lap. 


THE   TEA-PARTY. 


83 


The  cups  and  the  saucers  they  shone  lily-white : 
We  helped  all  the  dollies,  they  looked  so  polite. 
We  had  cake  and  jam  from  our  own  pantry-shelves  : 
Of  course,  we  did  most  of  the  eating  ourselves. 

But  housewives  don't  know  when  their  cares  may  begin. 
The  window  was  open,  and  pussy  popped  in : 
He  jumped  on  the  table ;  and  what  do  you  think  ? 
Down  fell  all  the  crockery  there,  in  a  wink. 

We  picked  up  the  pieces,  with  many  a  sigh ; 
Our  party  broke  up,  and  we  all  said  good-by  : 
Do  come  to  our  next  one  ;  but  then  we'll  invite 
That  very  bad  pussy  to  keep  out  of  sight. 


BEETHA   TO   BABY. 

O  little,  little  mother  !  I  was  once  as  small  as  you ; 
And  I  loved  my  dolly  dearly,  as  you  are  loving  too ; 
And  they  fed  me  with  a  spoon,  because  no  teeth  I  had  ; 
And  a  rattle  or  a  sugar-plum  would  make  me  very  glad. 

But  now  I'm  old  and  very  wise,  —  yes,  four  years  old  am  I : 
My  shoes  and  stockings  I  put  on  ;  I  do  not  often  cry  ; 
And  I  can  read  "  The  Nursery  ;  "  and  I  can  draw  a  house ; 
And  with  my  pen  and  paper  can  be  quiet  as  a  mouse. 


I  have  a  little  garden ;  it  is  planted  full  of  flowers  ; 
And  there,  each  pleasant  afternoon,  I  pass  some  happy  hours ; 
And  soon  I  hope,  my  little  pet,  that  you'll  be  large  enough 
To  go  with  me  and  play,  when  the  weather  is  not  rough. 

84 


WHO   IS    IT  ? 


Surely  a  step  on  the  carpet  I  hear, 
Some  quiet  mouse  that  is  creeping  so  near. 
Two  little  feet  mount  the  rung  of  my  chair : 
True  as  I  live,  there  is  somebody  there ! 
Ten  lily  fingers  are  over  my  eyes, 
Trying  to  take  me  by  sudden  surprise ; 
Then  a  voice,  calling  in  merriest  glee, 
"  Who  is  it  ?     Tell  me,  and  you  may  go  free." 

"  Who  is  it  ?     Leave  me  a  moment  to  guess. 
Some  one  who  loves  me  ?  "  The  voice  answers, ;<  Yes.! 
"  Some  one  who's  fairer  to  me  than  the  flowers, 
Brighter  to  me  than  the  sunshiny  hours  ? 
Darling,  whose  white  little  hands  make  me  blind 
Unto  all  things  that  are  dark  and  unkind ; 
Sunshine  and  blossoms,  and  diamond  and  pearl,  — 
Papa's  own  dear  little,  sweet  little  girl ! " 


MOON,  SO  ROUND  AND  YELLOW. 


Moon,  so  round  and  yellow, 

Looking  from  on  high, 
How  I  love  to  see  you 

Shining  in  the  sky ! 
Oft  and  oft  I  wonder, 

When  I  see  you  there, 
How  they  get  to  light  you, 

Hanging  in  the  air  ; 

Where  you  go  at  morning, 

When  the  night  is  past, 
And  the  sun  comes  peeping 

O'er  the  hills  at  last. 
Some  time  I  will  watch  you 

Slyly  overhead, 
When  you  think  I'm  sleeping 

Snugly  in  my  bed. 


GOOD-BY,  BIRDS   AND   FLOWERS. 


Buttercup  and  daisy, 

Lily  and  bluebell, 
Foxglove  tall  and  violet, 

Rose  and  pimpernel ; 
Linnet,  thrush,  and  blackbird, 

Finch,  and  Jenny  Wren, 
Good-by,  pretty  darlings ! 

Soon  we'll  meet  again. 

Little  stars  will  watch  you 

Through  the  winter  cold, 
Till,  with  smiles  of  beauty, 

Springtime  buds  unfold : 
Then  I'll  seek  you  early, 

Birds  upon  the  tree! 
Welcomes  sweet  you'll  warble, 

Pretty  ones,  to  me. 


88 


GOOD-BY,  BIRDS  AND  FLOWERS. 


I  will  catch  you,  lily, 

Laughing  in  your  bed ; 
I  will  kiss  you,  daisy, 

Till  your  cheeks  be  red. 
You  may  hide,  sweet  pansy : 

I  will  find  you  out, 
Where  you,  from  your  moss-couch, 

Shyly  peep  about. 

Buttercup  so  dainty, 

I  will  have  your  gold  ; 
Bluebell,  pink,  and  foxglove, 

All  the  gems  you  hold ! 
Good-by,  then,  till  springtime, 

Till  the  rosy  hours ; 
Then  will  I  be  with  you, 

Pretty  birds  and  flowers! 


PLATING  ROBINSON   CRUSOE. 

Play  this  is  my  little  island 
In  the  middle  of  the  floor ; 

And  this  arm-chair  is  my  castle, 
With  the  ladder  up  before. 

Play  the  cat  is  my  man  Friday ; 

And  the  broom  shall  be  my  gun ; 
I've  some  wooden  goats  and  a  parrot : 

Please  to  call  me  Robinson. 


Play  I'm  sighing  for  a  vessel, 
And  I'm  on  the  watch  for  her ; 

Then  the  table  is  my  big  boat, 
Which  I've  tried  in  vain  to  stir. 


90 


THE  SONG   OF  THE  KETTLE. 


Play  the  savages  are  coming  : 
They  are  making  for  the  land ! 

Now,  I'm  going  to  fire  among  them 
When  they  gather  on  the  sand. 

Oh !  it's  jolly  on  this  island 
For  an  hour  or  so  to  stay ; 

But  to  live  so  far  from  mother !  — 
I  am  glad  it's  only  play  ! 


THE   SONG   OF   THE   KETTLE. 


My  house  is  old,  the  rooms  are  low, 
The  windows  high  and  small  ; 

And  a  great  fireplace,  deep  and  wide, 
Is  built  into  the  wall. 


THE  SONG    OF  THE  KETTLE.  91 

There,  on  a  hanging  chimney-hook, 

My  little  kettle  swings ; 
And,  in  the  dreary  winter-time, 

How  cheerily  it  sings ! 

My  kettle  will  not  sing  to-day  — 

What  could  it  sing  about  ? 
For  it  is  empty,  it  is  cold  : 

The  fire  is  all  gone  out. 

Go,  bring  to  me,  to  fill  it  up, 

Fresh  water  from  the  spring ; 
And  I  will  build  a  rousing  fire, 

And  that  will  make  it  sing ! 

Bring  white  bark  from  the  silver  birch, 

And  pitch-knots  from  the  pine  ; 
And  here  are  shavings,  long  and  white, 

That  look  as  ribbons  fine. 

The  little  match  burns  faint  and  blue, 

But  serves  the  fire  to  light ; 
And  all  around  my  kettle,  soon, 

The  flames  are  rising  bright. 

Crack,  crack !  begins  the  hemlock-branch, 

Snap,  snap  !  the  chestnut  stick  ; 
And  up  the  wide  old  chimney  now 

The  sparks  are  flying  thick. 

Like  fire-flies  on  a  summer  night, 

They  go  on  shining  wings ; 
And,  hark  !  above  the  roaring  blaze 

My  little  kettle  sings  ! 


92 


UNDER  PAPA'S  HELMET. 


The  robin  carols  in  the  spring ; 

In  summer  hums  the  bee  : 
But,  in  the  dreary  winter,  give 

The  kettle's  song  to  me. 


>>*< 


UNDER   PAPA'S   HELMET. 


BY 


ALFRED    SELWYN. 


DRAWING  BY  OSCAR  PLETSCH. 


OW,  hurrah! 

See  him  stand ; 
Helm  on  head, 

Spear  in  hand ! 


Blow  the  horn, 
Beat  the  drum, 

Let  the  foe 

Forward  come ! 

Boy,  may  we 
See  the  day 


When  all  wars 
Turn  to  play ! 

Swords  and  guns 
Then  shall  be 

Only  toys 

For  you  and  me. 


'■  f'-LJ    <£ 


WHAT  THE  CAT  SAID  TO  THE  MONKEY. 

You  cowardly  monkey,  come  out  if  you  dare  ! 

I'll  teach  you  my  dear  little  kittens  to  scare. 

Because  I  had  gone  a  few  moments  away, 

You  thought  that  to  plague  them  was  good  monkey  play. 

But  when  I  came  back,  just  in  season,  I  saw 
What  was  up,  and  I  gave  you  a  pat  with  my  paw : 
It  didn't  set  well,  might  I  judge  from  your  face. 
What  ails  your  poor  arm  ?    and  why  that  grimace  ? 

Now,  here  hangs  my  paw;  and,  if  you're  inclined 
To  try  it  again,  'twill  be  ready,  you'll  find. 
And  mark,  Mr.  Monkey,  if  up  to  your  fun, 
I'll  show,  to  your  sorrow,  I  have  more  than  one. 

So  Velvetpaw,  Whitefoot,  and  Darkey,  don't  fear  ! 
No  monkey  shall  harm  you  while  mother  is  near. 
The  rascal  who  plagued  you  has  found  I  am  rough  : 
Of  my  paw  and  my  claw  he  has  had  quite  enough. 

93 


THE   BIRD    AND   THE   STAG. 


Little  bird 
On  the  bough, 

Tell  me  what 

You  dream  of  now. 

Gentle  stag 

Beneath  the  tree, 
Do  not  start 

At  sight  of  me. 

Live  and  gambol 

In  this  wood : 
I'd  not  harm  you 

If  I  could. 

Sing,  dear  bird, 
And  try  to  tell 

Of  the  mate 
You  love  so  well. 

Pretty  stag, 

Lie  still,  and  hear 
Birdie's  song 

So  sweet  and  clear. 

Men  with  guns, 

Keep  away! 
Come  not  here 

To  shoot  and  slay! 

It  would  be 
A  sin,  I  know, 

So  much  joy 
To  turn  to  woe. 


WHAT   DOES   THE   COCK   SAY? 

What  does  the  cock  say  every  morn, 

Crowing  so  loud  and  shrill  ? 
You  may  hear  the  sound  of  his  lusty  horn 

Far  Over  the  distant  hill. 

"  Get  up,  get  up,  get  up ! "  he  cries  ; 

"  Awake,  awake,  awake  ! 
The  sun  is  gilding  the  eastern  skies  ; 

And  the  day  begins  to  break. 

"  Get  up,  and  the  daisies  will  kiss  thy  feet, 

The  lark  sing  over  thy  head  : 
Far  better  be  out  with  the  flowers  so  sweet 

Than  wasting  the  hours  in  bed  ! " 


Qrw-  /  via    Pi  I 


LAZY  TOM 


Down  from  the  hills  came  Tommy  Drew,       <v"# 
Something  to  find  that  he  could  do  : 
"  I'll  be  a  sailor !  "  said  he  at  last ; 
But,  when  he  was  sent  to  the  top  of  the  mast, 
"  I  don't  like  this !  "  cried  Tommy. 

Home  he  returned,  and  thought  he  would  stay 
And  work  on  a  farm  for  a  dollar  a  day. 
But,  while  he  was  raking,  he  met  a  snake  : 
It  made  him  falter,  it  made  him  quake. 

"  I  don't  like  this  !  "  screamed  Tommy. 

He  left  the  farm,  and  made  up  his  mind 
A  stable-boy's  place  he'd  try  to  find ; 
But  an  old  horse  doubled  him  up  with  a  kick, 
And  sent  him  away  from  the  stable  quick. 

"  I  don't  like  that ! "  howled  Tommy. 

"  A  wooden  horse  can't  kick,"  thought  he  : 
"  A  wood-sawyer's  life  is  the  life  for  me !  " 
But  the  saw  went  hard :  he  hadn't  the  knack  ; 
And  half  of  a  log  on  his  toe  fell  whack  / 

"  I  don't  like  this  ! "  groaned  Tommy. 


96 


LAZY  TOM. 


"  A  butcher  I'll  be,  and  cut  up  meat  : 
A  good  trade  that ;  for  people  must  eat ; " 
But,  when  with  his  cleaver  he  aimed  a  blow, 
He  hit  the  joint  of  his  finger.     "  Oh  ! 

I  don't  like  that !  "  yelled  Tommy. 

"  I'll  get  an  organ,  a  monkey  too, 
And  make  my  fortune,"  said  Tommy  Drew. 
But  he  got  a  scratch  on  his  lip  one  day; 
And,  though  the  monkey  was  only  in  play, 

"  I  don't  like  this  !  "  whined  Tommy. 

"  I'll  get  a  gun  :  a  sportsman  I'll  be  !  " 
He  spied  a  bird  on  the  bough  of  a  tree : 
He  lifted  his  gun,  the  trigger  he  drew ; 
It  knocked  him  flat,  and  off  the  bird  flew. 

"I  don't  like  that!"  shrieked  Tommy. 

"  A  fisherman's  life  just  meets  my  wish  : 
I'll  go  to  the  rocks  by  the  sea,  and  fish." 
He  threw  his  line  ;  but  a  breeze  from  the  south, 
That  blew  the  hook,  made  it  catch  in  his  mouth. 
"  I  don't  like  this  !  "  moaned  Tommy. 

He  came  to  a  place  where  the  sun  shone  clear ; 
And  down  he  lay  on  a  haycock  near  ; 
And  up  he  looked  at  the  sky  so  blue, 
With  nothing  to  sigh  for,  and  nothing  to  do. 
"  Ah  !  this  I  like,"  yawned  Tommy. 


LEARNING  TO   FLY.  . 


"  Jump  !  you  little  birdie." 
Hark  !  the  mother  sings, 

"  Fly  !  you  little  birdie, 

Spread  your  little  wings  !  " 

See  !  the  little  birdie 

Jumps  from  off  the  bough 
Cunning  little  birdie, 

Do  be  careful  now. 


You're  so  very  little, 
And  the  tree's  so  tall, 

Oh  !  I  tremble,  birdie, 
Lest  you  get  a  fall. 

Look  !  he's  flying  safely: 
He  thinks  not  of  fear  ; 

For  the  little  birdie 

Knows  his  moth&r's  near. 


C-- 


f/f  .  «au!K  "  % 


THE   FIRST  LESSON. 


Happy  Mother  Robin, 

Hard  at  work  are  you, 
Teaching  all  your  little  ones 

What  they  ought  to  do. 
Well  they  learn  their  lessons 

High  up  in  the  tree  ; 
Lowest  class  in  singing  : 

"  Chee,  chee,  chee  ! " 

Baby's  loving  mother, 
Like  Dame  Robin  there, 

Has  a  little  scholar 
Sunny,  sweet,  and  fair  ; 


And  she  looks  so  earnest 
While  she  tries  to  say 

This,  her  earliest  lesson  : 
"  Day,  day,  day  ! " 

Baby  and  the  birdies 

Soon  drop  off  to  rest ; 
Then  their  mothers  fold  them 

In  the  cradle-nest. 
Baby  wins  the  medal, 

As  you  may  suppose  : 
Only  wait  a  little  while 

And  see  how  much  it  knows. 


A  SONG  OF  NOSES. 


Has  a  nose  the  bull, 
Soon  he  will  be  lowing. 


Has  a  nose  the  fox, 
He  is  very  knowing. 


UNCAN  has  a  nose, 
Points  my  finger  at  it 

Has  a  nose  the  hare, 
He  will  let  you  pat  it. 


Peacock  has  a  nose, 

Very  proud  he's  feeling. 


Has  a  nose  the  hog, 

Soon  will  he  be  squealin: 


Tell  me  which  of  all  these  noses 
Duncan  now  the  best  supposes. 


too 


MOTHER'S  JOY  AND  MOTHER'S  PLAGUE. 


Say,  what  shall  I  do  with  this  baby  ? 

In  his  crib  now  he  ought  to  be  sleeping ; 
Yet  here  he  is,  wild  for  a  frolic, 

And  here  wide  awake  he'll  be  keeping. 

He  wants  all  the  folks  to  amuse  him ; 

He  thinks  they  can  do  nothing  wiser : 
But,  baby,  have  mercy,  I  beg  you  ! 

Go  to  sleep ;  for  you're  not  a  late  riser. 

u  Sleep,  sleep,  my  dear,  hush-a-by  baby  ! " 
No,  no  !     See  him  laugh  at  the  notion  ! 

'Tis  plain  there's  no  peace  for  his  mother ; 
For  baby  wants  all  her  devotion. 

101 


GRANDPAPA'S  SPECTACLES. 

Grandpapa's  spectacles  cannot  be  found; 
He  has  searched  all  the  room,  high  and  low,  round  and  round 
Now  he  calls  to  the  young  ones,  and  what  does  he  say  ? 
"  Ten  cents  for  the  child  who  will  find  them  to-day." 

Then  Henry  and  Nelly  and  Edward  all  ran  ; 

And  a  most  thorough  hunt  for  the  glasses  began  ; 

And  dear  little  Nell,  in  her  generous  way, 

Said,  "  Til  look  for  them,  grandpa,  without  any  pay  !  " 


All  through  the  big  Bible  she  searches  with  care, 
That  lies  on  the  table  by  grandpapa's  chair ; 
They  feel  in  his  pockets ;  they  peep  in  his  hat ; 
They  pull  out  the  sofa ;  they  shake  out  the  mat. 


OLD   TRIM. 

Then  down  on  all-fours,  like  two  good-natured  bears, 
Go  Harry  and  Ned  under  tables  and  chairs, 
Till,  quite  out  of  breath,  Ned  is  heard  to  declare, 
He  believes  that  those  glasses  are  not  anywhere. 

But  Nelly,  who,  leaning  on  grandpapa's  knee, 

Was  thinking  most  earnestly  where  they  could  be, 

Looked  suddenly  up  in  the  kind,  faded  eyes, 

And  her  own  shining  brown  ones  grew  big  with  surprise. 

She  clapped  both  her  hands  ;  all  her  dimples  came  out : 
She  turned  to  the  boys  with  a  bright  roguish  shout,  — 
u  You  may  leave  off  your  looking,  both  Harry  and  Ned, 
For  there  are  the  glasses  on  grandpapa's  head  !  " 


103 


>XK< 


OLD   TRIM. 

Here's  brave  old  Trim :   I  once  with  him 
Was  walking  near  the  docks ; 

We  heard  a  cry,  both  Trim  and  I,  — 
The  cry  that  always  shocks. 


104  OLD   TRIM. 

• 

"  Help  !  boat,  ahoy  !     See,  there's  a  boy : 

Make  haste,  he's  going  down." 
tt  There  !  watch  him,  Trim  !  in  after  him ! 

We  must  not  let  him  drown." 

Through  foam  and  splash  Trim's  quick  eyes  flash 

He  strikes  out  to  the  place ; 
And  round  and  round,  with  eager  bound, 

He  watches  for  a  trace. 

A  little  hand  comes  paddling  up, 

A  face  so  wild  and  wan : 
"  Ah,  Trim,  he's  there !    Make  haste,  take  care ; 

And  save  him  if  you  can  ! " 

Oh !  brave  and  bold,  he  seizes  hold ; 

His  teeth  are  firmly  set : 
Now  bear  him  near ;    there  is  no  fear : 

The  boy  is  breathing  yet. 

"  Bravo,  good  Trim  !  "     They  welcome  him, 

And  clasp  him  round  for  joy; 
Then  homeward  bear,  with  tender  care, 

The  pale,  half-conscious  boy. 

O  faithful  Trim !     "  Would  I  sell  him  ?  " 

Inquired  a  curious  elf: 
"  What,  sell,"  I  cried,  "  a  friend  so  tried ! 

I'd  rather  sell  myself." 


THE  BIRDS  AND  THE  POND-LILY. 


Four  little  birds  came  out  to  greet 

The  first  pond-lily,  so  fair  and  sweet, 

The  first  that  opened  its  petals  white 

To  the  wooing  breeze  and  the  golden  light. 

They  flew  around,  then  sat  on  the  tree, 

And  sang,  "  You  are  sweet  as  sweet  can  be : 

O  dear  Pond-lily !  we  do  not  jest : 

Now,  which  of  us  all  do  you  love  best  ? " 

Pond-lily  spoke  not,  but,  instead, 

Dipped  in  the  water  her  beautiful  head, 

As  much  as  to  say,  "  I'm  well  content 

In  this  my  own  pure  element." 

The  birds  they  sang  in  their  very  best  style, 

But  got  no  answer,  not  even  a  smile  ; 

For  Pond-lily  knew  it  was  safest  and  best 

To  keep  where  she  was,  on  the  wave's  cool  breast, 

And  never  to  listen  to  flattering  words 

From  idle  suitors  and  wandering  birds. 


105 


THE   BIRDS. 

What  is  it  I  hear, 
Very  sweet,  very  clear  ? 

Will  it  startle  and  wake 
The  little  Gold  Head, 
Asleep  in  her  bed  ? 
The  darkness  is  gone, 
And  the  brightness  of  dawn 

Is  beginning  to  break. 

She  hears  ;  and  her  eyes 
Open  wide  in  surprise, 

While  the  birds  sing,  and  sing, 
Singing  far,  singing  near, 
Very  sweet,  very  clear  ; 
And  little  Gold  Head, 
Awake  in  her  bed, 

Cries  out,  "  It  is  spring  !  " 


106 


CHIMNEY-TOPS. 


"  Ah  !  the  morning  is  gray  ; 
And  what  kind  of  a  day 
Is  it  likely  to  be  ?  " 
a  You  must  look  up,  and  see 
What  the  chimney-tops  say. 

"  If  the  smoke  from  the  mouth 
Of  the  chimney  goes  south, 
Tis  the  north  wind,  that  blows 
From  the  country  of  snows : 
Look  out  for  rough  weather ; 
The  cold  and  the  north  wind 
Are  always  together. 

u  If  the  smoke  pouring  forth 
From  the  chimney  goes  north, 

107 


108  CHIMNEY-TOPS. 

• 
A  mild  day  it  will  be, 

A  warm  time  we  shall  see  : 

The  south  wind  is  blowing 

From  lands  where  the  orange 

And  fig  trees  are  growing. 

(i  But,  if  west  goes  the  smoke, 
Get  your  water-proof  cloak 
And  umbrella  about : 
'Tis  the  east  wind  that's  out. 
A  wet  day  you  will  find  it : 
The  east  wind  has  always 
A  storm  close  behind  it. 

"  But,  if  east  the  smoke  flies, 
We  may  look  for  blue  skies  : 
Soon  the  clouds  will  take  flight, 
Twill  be  sunny  and  bright. 
The  sweetest  and  best  wind 
Is  surely  that  fair-weather 
Bringer,  the  west  wind." 


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Oh,  joy  !  'tis  the  season  of  blossoms,  — 
The  beautiful  season  of  blossoms. 
Has  snow  in  the  sunshine  been  falling  ? 
Oh,  no  !  'tis  the  apple-tree  blooming. 

Pure  white  is  each  delicate  blossom,  — 
Pure  white,  with  a  shading  of  crimson. 
Oh  !  beautiful  season  of  blossoms, 
That  gives  us  the  apple-tree  blooming. 

Oh  !  come  to  the  garden  and  see  it,  — 
The  apple-tree,  old  in  its  glory  : 
It  sheds  a  whole  carpet  of  blossoms, 
And  still  seems  as  blooming  as  ever. 

I  love  it,  this  season  of  blossoms,  — 
This  beautiful  season  of  blossoms. 
Of  all  the  fine  sights  you  can  show  me, 
Oh,  show  me  the  apple-tree  blooming  ! 


109 


THE    LILY-OF-THE-V ALLEY. 

"  O  lily-of-the- valley  !  why  will  you  be  so  coy, 
And  hide  away  where  few  of  us  your  beauty  can  enjoy  ? 
Your  little  flowers,  so  white  and  pure,  are  fragrant  to  the  smell ; 
Yet  in  the  valley's  cooling  shade  you  always  love  to  dwell." 

"If  you  will  listen  very  close,  I'll  tell  you,  little  maid, 
Why  thus  I  pass  my  lily  life  here  in  the  cooling  shade  : 
If  I  were  on  the  sunny  bank,  where  all  could  see  and  praise, 
In  such  a  glare  I'd  find  it  hard  to  live  out  half  my  days." 


WAITING    FOR    THE    MAY. 

From  out  his  hive  there  came  a  bee : 
"  Has  spring-time  come,  or  not  ?  "  said  he. 
Alone  within  a  garden-bed 
A  small,  pale  snowdrop  raised  its  head. 
"  'Tis  March,  this  tells  me,"  said  the  bee : 
"  The  hive  is  still  the  place  for  me. 
The  day  is  chill,  although  'tis  sunny, 
And  icy  cold  this  snowdrop's  honey." 


Again  came  humming  forth  the  bee : 
"  What  month  is  with  us  now  ?  "  said  he. 
Gay  crocus-blossoms,  blue  and  white 
And  yellow,  opened  to  the  light. 
"  It  must  be  April,"  said  the  bee. 
"  And  April's  scarce  the  month  for  me. 
I'll  taste  these  flowers  (the  day  is  sunny). 
But  wait  before  I  gather  honey." 


in 


112 


WAITING  FOR   THE  MAY. 


Once  more  came  out  the  waiting  bee. 
a  'Tis  come  :  I  smell  the  spring ! "  said  he. 
The  violets  were  all  in  bloom; 
The  lilac  tossed  a  purple  plume  ; 
The  daff'dill  wore  a  yellow  crown ; 
The  cherry-tree  a  snow-white  gown ; 
And  by  the  brook-side,  wet  with  dew, 
The  early  wild  wake-robins  grew. 
"  It  is  the  May-time  ! "  said  the  bee, 
"  The  queen  of  all  the  months  for  me  ! 
The  flowers  are  here,  the  sky  is  sunny : 
'Tis  now  my  time  to  gather  honey  ! " 


>X*c 


WHILE  OVER  A  WORM  THESE  LITTLE  BIRDS  FIGHT, 

TO  SEIZE  THEM  THE  HAWK  SWOOPS  DOWN  FROM  nER  FLIGHT 

AND  SO,  MY  DEAR  CHILDREN,  BEWARE  OF  A  QUARREL : 

A  HAWK  MAY  BE  WATCHING   YOU -THAT  IS  MY  MORAL. 


SANTA   CLAUS. 


Santa  Claus  came  here  last  night 

On  his  flight. 
Down  the  chimney-top  he  flew : 
He  had  lots  of  work  to  do, 

Well  he  knew. 

So  he  heaped  the  stockings  high, 

Said  "  Good-by." 
Now,  of  toys  he  had  no  lack  : 
They  were  carried  on  his  back, 

In  a  sack. 

What  did  little  Flora  find  ?  — 

Flora  kind. 
Why,  a  doll  with  golden  hair, 
Candies,  and  a  tiny  chair, 

I  declare ! 

113 


114 


SANTA    CLAUS. 


What  did  bright-eyed  Georgie  get  ? 

Mamma's  pet. 
Can't  you  guess  ?     A  tiny  gun ; 
But  you  see  it's  only  one 

Made  for  fun. 


Here's  what  lazy  Joseph  found, 
Looking  round. 
It  was  shocking! 
In  his  stocking,'. 
There  was  nothing,  y<?u  -mist  know, 
But  a  big  hole  at  tie  toe 

Lazy  Joe!  :>: 

«>oj©<o« 


Every  day  when  school  is  done, 
We  play  at  ball :  it's  splendid  fun.  ..^ 


One  year  old  to-day  ! 

See  our  baby  bright ! 
Ring  the  bells  !    Be  gay ! 

What  a  pretty  sight ! 


Beat  the  drums,  and  blow 
All  the  trumpets  too ! 

Let  the  people  know 
What  they  now  must  do. 


They  must  come  and  greet 

Baby  as  he  lies 
Looking  out,  so  sweet, 

With  his  thoughtful  eyes. 

Tell  us,  little  man, 

What  your  heart  is  saying ; 
Tell  us,  if  you  can, 

Where  your  thoughts  are 
straying. 

115 


This  is  the  way  the  morning  dawns : 
Rosy  tints  on  flowers  and  trees, 
Winds  that  wake  the  birds  and  bees, 
Dewdrops  on  the  fields  and  lawns, — 

This  is  the  way  the  morning  dawns. 


This  is  the  way  the  sun  comes  up : 
Gold  on  brooks  and  glossy  leaves, 
Mist  that  melts  above  the  sheaves, 
Vine  and  rose  and  buttercup, — 

This  is  the  way  the  sun  comes  up. 


A   SUMMER  DAY.  H7 

This  is  the  way  the  rain  comes  down : 
Tinkle,  tinkle,  drop  by  drop, 
Over  roof  and  chimney-top ; 
Boughs  that  bend,  and  skies  that  frown, — 
This  is  the  way  the  rain  comes  down. 

This  is  the  way  the  river  flows : 

Here  a  whirl,  and  there  a  dance, 

Slowly  now,  then  like  a  lance, 

Swiftly  to  the  sea  it  goes,  — 
This  is  the  way  the  river  flows. 

This  is  the  way  the  birdie  sings : 

"Baby-birdies  in  the  nest, 

You  I  surely  love  the  best; 

Over  you  I  fold  my  wings,"  — 
This  is  the  way  the  birdie  sings. 

This  is  the  way  the  daylight  dies : 

Cows  are  lowing  in  the  lane, 

Fire-flies  wink  on  hill  and  plain ; 

Yellow,  red,  and  purple  skies, — 
This  is  the  way  the  daylight  dies. 


118 


FLOWERS   ARE   SPRINGING 

Flowers  are  springing, 

Birds  are  singing, 
Bees  are  humming  all  around  ; 

Joy  and  pleasure 

Without  measure 
Welcome  us  in  every  sound. 


In  the  meadows 
Lights  and  shadows 

Chase  each  other  far  away. 
Lambs  are  bleating, 
Swallows  fleeting,  — 

Happy  all  this  summer's  day. 


119 


THE    SHIPPING -HOPE. 

See  Nora  with  her  skipping-rope : 

How  fast  she  makes  it  fly ! 
She  will  not  jump  too  much,  I  hope, 

But  soon  will  put  it  by. 

Good  things  are  good  while  rightly  used 

But  they  will  end  in  harm 
If  in  the  use  they  are  abused, 

And  then  they  lose  their  charm. 


120 


CLEVER  JACK. 


Jacky  by  the  river-side, 

Jacky  by  the  river  : 
He  let  his  clothes  go  all  in  holes, 

And  so  he  had  to  shiver. 


Jacky  by  the  river-side 
Often  used  to  linger  :      * 

He  caught  a  fish,  but  let  it  go 
Because  it  bit  his  finger.    " 


III. 
Jack  by  the  river-side 

Got  into  a  boat, 
And  threw  a  millstone  in  the  tide 

To  see  if  it  would  float. 


IV. 


u 


Jack  by  the  river-side 
Found  a  maiden  fair  : 

He  was  stupid,  she  was  stupid  ; 
So  they  were  a  pair. 


122 


CLEVER  JACK 


Jack  by  the  river-side, — 

"  Maiden  fair,"  said  he, 
"  You're  a  noodle,  I'm  a  noodle : 

Will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

VI. 

"Jack  by  the  river-side,"  — 
Thus  the  maiden  said,  — 

"  You've  no  money,  I've  no  money  : 
How  shall  we  be  fed  ?  " 

VII. 

Says  Jack  by  the  river-side, 
"  That  needn't  cause  us  sorrow : 

Suppose  we  go  without  to-day, 
And  hope  for  bread  to-morrow." 

VIII. 

Says  Jack  by  the  river-side, 
"  See,  this  will  help  us  through  : 

We'll  go  and  visit  all  our  friends, 
As  many  others  do." 

IX. 

So  Jack  by  the  river-side 
Went  bowing  round  about ; 

And  one  friend  would  not  let  him  in, 
And  the  other  turned  him  out. 


X. 

Jack  by  the  river-side 
Said,  "  'Twon't  do  to  fail : 

We'll  take  a  basket  for  a  house, 
An  egg-chest,  or  a  pail." 

XI. 

Says  Jack  by  the  river-side, 
"  A  basket  sure  is  best ; 

And  we'll  sit  as  snugly  there 
As  birds  within  their  nest" 

XII. 

Jack  by  the  river-side 

In  his  house  you  may  behold ; 
But,  in  the  winter,  wife  and  he 

Both  found  it  rather  cold. 

XIII. 

Jack  by  the  river-side 

Now  thought  of  singing  small; 
But  fortune  smiled  at  last  on  him, 

And  made  amends  for  all. 

XIV. 

One  day,  when  wife  went  out  to  spin, 
And  he  went  out  to  plough, 

They  found  an  empty  washing-tub  ; 
And  there  they're  living  now. 


APKIL    FOOL. 

What  are  the  children  all  about? 

Mischief  is  certainly  brewing  : 
When  four  little  heads  are  in  a  bunch, 

I  know  there'll  be  something  doing. 

Hark !  what  a  merry,  noisy  shout, 
As  away  they  suddenly  scatter ! 

Papa  has  sweetened  his  tea  with  salt, 
And  doesn't  know  what's  the  matter. 

Mother,  who  says,  u  You  can't  catch  me ! " 
Her  breakfast  just  ready  to  swallow, 

Finds  that  the  egg  she  likes  so  well 
(How  strange  !)  is  perfectly  hollow. 

123 


124  THE   TRADESPEOPLE. 

Bridget,  with  dish-cloth  pinned  behind 
By  fingers  that  stealthily  handle, 

Is  patiently  trying,  with  all  her  might, 
To  light : —  a  potato-candle  ! 

But,  ah,  you  rogues  !  though  you  had  your  fun, 

The  fun  was  not  all  for  you ; 
And  you  found,  before  the  day  was  done, 

We  could  have  our  nonsense  too. 

For  Dick,  who  thinks  maple-sugar  nice, 

Took  a  bite  of  soap  so  yellow ! 
Tom  tasted  a  doughnut  of  cotton-wool, 

And  got  laughed  at  well,  poor  fellow ! 

And  when  mother  sent  to  the  thread-store  near, 
The  little  ones,  Kate  and  Willie, 

For  a  skein  of  sky-blue  scarlet  silk, 
They  came  back  looking  quite  silly. 

Our  jokes  were  only  innocent  fun ; 

And  now  let  me  give  you  a  rule  : 
Don't  ever  be  vulgar  or  rude  or  unkind 

In  playing  at  April  Fool. 

THE   TRADESPEOPLE. 

jg?HE  swallow  is  a  mason ; 

And  underneath  the  eaves 
He  builds  a  nest,  and  plasters  it 
With  mud  and  hay  and  leaves. 


THE   TRADESPEOPLE. 


125 


The  woodpecker  is  hard  at  work  : 

A  carpenter  is  he ; 
And  you  may  find  him  hammering 

His  house  high  up  a  tree. 

The  bullfinch  knows  and  practises 
The  basketmaker's  trade : 

See  what  a  cradle  for  his  young 
The  little  thing  has  made ! 


Of  all  the  weavers  that  I  know, 
The  chaffinch  is  the  best : 

High  on  the  apple-tree  he  weaves 
A  cosey  little  nest. 


The  goldfinch  is  a  fuller : 

A  skilful  workman  he  ! 
Of  wool  and  threads  he  makes  a  nest 

That  you  would  like  to  see. 


The  cuckoo  laughs  to  see  them  work 
"  Not  so,"  he  says,  "  we  do  : 

My  wife  and  I  take  others'  nests, 
And  live  at  ease  —  cuckoo  !  " 


THE   BIRD'S   RETURN. 


"  Where  have  you  been,  little  birdie,  ■ 
Where  have  you  been  so  long  ?  " 

"  Warbling  in  glee 

Far  o'er  the  sea, 
And  learning  for  you  a  new  song, 

My  sweet, — 
Learning  for  you  a  new  song." 

"  Why  did  you  go,  little  birdie, — 
Why  did  you  go  from  me  ?  " 

"  Winter  was  here, 
Leafless  and  drear ; 

And  so  I  flew  over  the  sea, 
My  sweet,  — 

So  I  flew  over  the  sea." 


What  did  you  see,  little  birdie,  — 
What  did  you  see  each  day  ?  " 

"  Sunshine  and  flowers, 
Blossoms  and  bowers, 

And  pretty  white  lambkins  at  play, 
My  sweet,  — 

Pretty  white  lambkins  at  play." 

Who  kept  you  safe,  little  birdie,  — 
Who  kept  you  safe  from  harm  ?  " 

"  The  Father  of  all, 
Of  great  and  of  small : 

He  sheltered  me  under  his  arm, 
My  sweet, — 

Under  his  dear,  loving  arm." 


AT   THE   PUMP. 

Pump  away,  pump  away,  sister  of  ours ! 
Water's  the  thing  for  us  and  the  flowers ; 
Roses  and  children  would  droop,  day  by  day, 
Had  they  no  water:  so,  Jane,  pump  away. 

Water  for  washing,  and  water  for  drinking ; 
There's  nothing  like  water,  fresh  water,  I'm  thinking 
Put  nothing  but  water  in  cup  and  in  pitcher, 
And  then,  merry  men,  you'll  be  wiser  and  richer. 


SWALLOWS. 


Since  one  swallow  does  not  make  a  summer, 
Come,  O  West  Wind!  come  with  many  a  comer! 
Let  the  swallows  come  with  spring-days  sunny : 
They  shall  have  a  home ;  we'll  ask  no  money. 

See  them  gather!  —  hear  them  scold  and  chatter! 
On  the  fence:  now,  what  can  be  the  matter? 
Little  birds  should  loving  be,  and  quiet : 
Why,  then,  swallows,  why,  then,  make  a  riot  ? 

See  them !  hear  them  !  they  are  welcome,  very : 
Now  we  soon  shall  have  the  spring-days  merry. 
Time  of  blossoms,  time  of  song  and  flowers : 
O  the  happy,  happy  spring-time  hours  ! 


128 


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